The Butterfly Effect
by CaspianAlexander
Summary: A chance remark on the night of Halloween 1981 could have changed everything. Fate throws baby Harry into the custody of Kingsley Shacklebolt, assisted by a certain Mad-Eye Moody. And oh boy, heads will roll and history will change when this gets out. Dear Wizarding Britain: Your saviour has arrived. ON HIATUS.
1. A Different Life

**The Butterfly Effect.**

 **Before you begin, I should warn you that I actually quite like the Weasleys, don't hate Dumbledore (although I think he's often misguided), and am rather fond of Snape. I like slash, but I won't twist canon and make a straight character gay unless I can prove there's strong canon evidence they might have been.**

 **This story is a reaction against the following clichés, and therefore won't include any of them:**

 **Harry is Lord of everything-you-can-possibly-imagine.**

 **Harry's vault is only a trust vault and actually he's even richer.**

 **Harry finds his true love age eleven, and is engaged by Christmas.**

 **Dumbledore is an evil manipulative bastard, and so are the Weasleys.**

 **If you think this doesn't sound like the kind of story you'd like to read, no problem. There's 700,000 other stories on this site so I'm sure there's something out there for you. Happy reading!**

 _\\\/_

 _ **Sometimes the slightest things change the direction of our lives, the merest breath of a circumstance, a random moment that connects like a meteorite striking the earth. Lives have swivelled and changed direction on the strength of a chance remark.**_

 _ **-**_ **Bruce Courtenay,** _ **The Power Of One**_

\\\/

 _""I met him!" growled Hagrid. "I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an' James's house after they was killed! Jus' got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead … an' Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin' there. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret-Keeper. Thought he'd jus' heard the news o' You-Know-Who's attack an' come ter see what he could do. White an' shakin', he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!" Hagrid roared._

" _Hagrid, please!" said Professor McGonagall. "Keep your voice down!"_

" _How was I ter know he wasn' upset abou' Lily an' James? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou'! An' then he says, 'Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him —' Ha! But I'd had me orders from Dumbledore, an' I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's. Black argued, but in the end he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. 'I won't need it anymore,' he says._

" _I shoulda known there was somethin' fishy goin' on then. He loved that motorbike, what was he givin' it ter me for? Why wouldn' he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he'd bin the Potters' Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin' ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o' hours before the Ministry was after him."_

\\\/

The flames were beginning to flicker and grow.

The house lay in ruins; a giant crater in the center of the chaos. Some sections had collapsed, and others were groaning under their own weight. On the second floor, a large hole had been blasted out of the side of the house, and chunks of rubble littered the garden below. This had once been a large, pleasant house with a sizeable garden, but little remained of that now.

The large man stumped quickly up the road, brushing past a few muggles craning their necks trying to get a good look. Sirens began to wail in the distance, and he hurried his pace as more muggles appeared from the direction of the village. There were magical folk here too, but he wasn't expecting help from them. Not with the whole wizarding world too scared to even open a window, in case you-know-who flew inside their kitchen.

As he reached the garden gate, a cat sprinted past him with a hiss, and disappeared across the road. The man looked up at the great ruin. He knew he would need to move quickly to avoid the flickers of fire that were beginning, and not for the first time he regretted the incompetence that had lead to him never attain a new wand or finish his magical training. A little magic might have helped, if he was to try and save the last of the Potters. Moving as quickly as his large size allowed, he entered the smoking ruin, barely squeezing through the doorway.

The body of James Potter lay in the hallway. The man cursed, as his hopes of finding the others alive plummeted. James Potter could have been sleeping, except for the unmistakable pallor of his skin, his glasses askew on his face. His eyes were wide open, staring up at the ceiling as though in disbelief. The large man paused to close the lids gently, then moved further inside. He could do no more when the house threatened collapse at any moment.

From upstairs, he heard a faint sound.

Lily Potter was the first thing he saw when he entered the little nursery at the top of the stairs. She lay where she had fallen, between the doorway and the cot. Her red hair fanned out across the floor, and her arms outstretched as though to stop a foe who had long departed. Behind her, a large section of the wall had been blasted away, and the chill from the night crept into the room. She too, was quite dead. The giant wept as he saw the body. Again, he paused to close the eyes.

In the cot, lay Harry Potter.

The baby was awake, staring upwards with startling green eyes and making small noises of distress. As the man leaned over him, the infant whimpered and began to cry. There was little remarkable about him. Nothing that suggested he was anything special or different from any other child. He showed all the signs of being a healthy, well-cared for one year old. All except for the wound across his forehead.

The giant began to weep in earnest as he scooped up the child.

"Poor little Harry, that bastard got 'em in the end didn' he?" The man whispered, more to himself than the child. "An' Lily an' James got like that, leavin' the poor little tyke an orphan an' all"

Outside the house, more onlookers had gathered and they observed the man leaving the house with undisguised interest. The large man glared at them, and tucked the baby away more securely. He was preparing to depart when a noise broke through the excited muttering.

A low rumbling sound broke the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. The man astride it looked hardly old enough to ride such a shining monster. He wore no protective clothing, and was bare-headed with long black hair and handsome features. His face twisted with horror as he took in the scene in front of him.

"No..." He whispered.

The muggles scattered in astonishment, and the stranger flicked his wand at them. " _Obliviate"_ he murmured distractedly, sliding from the seat to the ground.

"Ah Sirius, I'm sorry." The giant said gently.

"Hagrid?" The man called Sirius said urgently, catching sight of the baby. "Harry's alright?" Relief in his voice replaced panic, but his eyes darted towards the house as though he was considering running inside.

"I don' know abou' alright" Hagrid rumbled. "Lil an' James are gone."

Sirius turned white. "No," he said again, shaking his head in denial. "No."

"I'm sorry lad." Hagrid said gently, resting a massive hand on the younger man's shoulder. "They was gone when I got here. Looks like the killin' curse, they didn' have a mark on 'em"

"And its true?" Sirius asked, ignoring the statement. "Harry...killed you-know-who? He's really gone?"

Hagrid straightened his shoulders. "Aye. This tiny lad managed what all them aurors an' a whole ministry couldn' do. He's gone alright." Both of them gazed at the baby in Hagrid's arms for a long moment. He was still awake, blinking sleepily up at them. A tiny frown appeared on his face as he realised these faces weren't those of his parents.

"Give Harry to me Hagrid, I'm his godfather, I'll look after him" Sirius said urgently.

Hagrid shook his head. "No can do Sirius. I'm workin' on orders from Dumbledore, the lad's gotta go to his aunt an' uncle."

"Lilys sister? Petunia? She hated Lily!" Sirius exclaimed. "She won't want Harry. Let me have him, it's what Lily and James would have wanted."

Hagrid was immovable. "I'm sorry Sirius, but I gotta follow me orders."

Sirius gazed at the baby in abject despair. "Take my motorbike then Hagrid, to get him there faster. I won't be needing it anymore," he said distractedly, looking back at the house.

"Don' go doin' anythin' stupid now" Hagrid warned warily.

"I won't. But take it, please" Sirius repeated.

"Alrigh', thank you." Hagrid said, and tucked Harry securely into his coat, before mounting the enormous bike. "I better get wee Harry to his aunt an' uncle now. But I'll be seein' you around, I'm sure. An' Sirius, I'm real sorry abou' Lily an' James."

Sirius fixed Hagrid with an intense stare. "Promise me something Hagrid, for the sake of Lily and James."

Hagrid waited.

"Promise me you won't leave him there alone with those muggles, without going back to check on him. Dumbledore is a great man and I'm sure he has his reasons, but he doesn't know those muggles like Lily did, and she told me. Promise me Hagrid, that you'll go back to make sure he's alright."

Hagrid was shaken by the intensity in the young mans face. "Ah, I promise" he agreed. "Canna see it doin' any harm to check up on him."

Sirius sagged with relief. "Thank you" he murmured. "Goodbye Hagrid. Goodbye...Harry." The great black motorcycle rose into the air with a roar as Hagrid gripped the handlebars securely, and set off in the direction of Little Whinging. The promise he'd made, still ringing in his head. Sirius Black took one last grim look at the building, and disappeared with a crack.

In their wake, several muggles milled around in confusion, trying to remember what they were doing there.

\\\/

 _Two days later_

Vernon Dursley was having a very bad day.

In fact, now he thought about it, the entire week had gone badly from beginning to end. The sinking feeling in the pit of his considerable stomach showed no sign of diminishing as he shovelled down copious amounts of bacon and eggs at the kitchen table, and it was a sign of how upset he was that he couldn't even focus on his morning newspaper.

Had he been able to concentrate, the headlines would not have improved his mood. Strange happenings, owl sightings, mysterious strangers and shooting stars all day long. Vernon Dursley hated anything abnormal, and this week had been nothing but a series of increasingly unpleasant abnormal happenings.

The most particular source of his displeasure was at this moment sleeping upstairs in the spare room, in Dudley's old cot while they decided what to do with him.

It appeared that Petunia's thoughts were occupied in a similar direction, for her thin lips pursed with disapproval even as she wrestled their fat screaming toddler Dudley into his highchair, an activity she usually undertook with great enjoyment. However, knowing their was another child in their household, one of unquestionable freakishness, would dim even the strongest enthusiasm.

Their peaceful existence had been rudely interrupted the moment the Potter child was left on their doorstep yesterday morning, and Vernon was struggling to think of a way out of their predicament. He was not accustomed to thinking so hard, and it was giving him a headache. One thing he knew for sure: They did not want the boy. And they would take any chance to be rid of him, regardless of whatever nonsense that crackpot old fool Dumble-whatsit had written in the letter to Petunia.

Petunia placed Vernon's second helping of breakfast in front of him with a sniff, and as he looked up to grunt his appreciation, he looked out of the window and froze. Walking up the garden path was the largest man he had ever seen. And absolutely everything about him screamed abnormal. He was several times the size of a normal man, with a wild mane of hair and appeared to be wearing an unusual selection of dead animals draped across his massive form.

"Pe-Petunia" Vernon hissed. Petunia looked out of the window, and screamed. Dudley, startled by the noise, also started to howl and kick his feet against the table. From upstairs, a second infant voice joined the cacophony. Amidst the noise, there came a loud, unmistakable knocking on the door.

Vernon answered, his face already composed into a scowl. "Yes?" He grunted, glaring at the stranger. It had to be admitted that a great deal of his ire came from the fact that here was a man he would be unable to intimidate with his imposing size.

The man smiled genially at Vernon. "Mornin' Dursley. Hope yeh don' mind, I've come ter see how young Harry's gettin' along."

Vernon turned purple. "You! It was you that left him here!" He turned to the kitchen. "Petunia!"

The giant shuffled his feet nervously. "Aye, ah may have brought him the other night, on Professor Dumbledore orders mind."

Vernon swelled with fury at the audacity of the giant. "How dare you! How dare you people attempt to place him with us!" He growled. "We don't want his unnatural ways in our family, tainting our Dudley. And who the bloody hell thinks it's acceptable to dump a child on someone's doorstep anyway?"

Petunia was at his shoulder, looking nervously up and down the road to check the neighbours weren't watching. "We don't want him," she agreed, sounding far more composed. "We don't want the boy, and your people will have to take him back."

The giant took a step back. "Yeh...yeh don' want Harry? Yer own flesh an' blood?"

"He's no family of ours," Petunia said shrilly, her voice going up an octave.

She disappeared from his side, but Vernon was occupied glaring at the giant. "And who," he muttered, "the hell are you?"

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts" the giant said, peering over Vernon's shoulder as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Harry. "An' you shouldn' be talkin' that way 'bout young Harry. I know it were a shock an' all, Lily an' James passin' away but its no reason teh talk hasty now."

Vernon was spared answering by the reappearance of Petunia. In her arms the black-haired baby boy was bundled up in blankets. Hagrid looked horrified. Petunia thrust the baby at him, and Hagrid took him reflexively. The toddler looked like a newborn in the arms of the giant. As the cries died away, Hagrid looked up at the Dursleys. "I can' take him," he said, looking bemused. "Dumbledore said he's teh stay with yeh now."

"You can and you will" hissed Petunia. "We won't have him. Decent people like us don't deserve this. Your kind will simply have to look after him yourself." And with that, she closed the door firmly in his face, and turned the lock.

Vernon had never admired his wife quite so much before as in that moment.

They peered out the window to see the giant staring at the door for a moment, before tucking the baby securely inside his enormous coat, and walking slowly away.

Petunia turned to her husband in satisfaction. "I expect that's the last we shall hear from them," she said, sounding relieved.

"I expect so too," Vernon replied happily, and tucked into his breakfast with renewed vigour.

\\\/

Hagrid looked at the baby in his arms with a worried frown. He'd really done it this time, really messed it up. Big blundering Hagrid, can't even deliver a baby to his relatives without something going wrong. Dumbledore would be furious, be so disappointed in him after everything he'd trusted him with. That was what upset Hagrid the most. Nobody trusted him with anything, yet Dumbledore had placed his faith in him for this most important mission of all, and he had failed.

How could the relatives not want Harry? That was what Hagrid was having most trouble comprehending. How could they possibly turn away an innocent baby, the last surviving member of Petunia's family no less. Hagrid's frown grew more pronounced as he considered this. Hagrid's own giantess mother hadn't wanted him, and he knew how it felt to be rejected by a parental figure. The sting never really faded. He didn't want the boy in his arms to end up with the same fate.

But what to do with him? Hagrid couldn't very well turn around and demand the Dursleys take him back. He could only imagine the kind of upbringing Harry would have in that household. Dumbledore must not have known. Couldn't have known, or he would never have left him there. Dumbledore was a great man, but must have simply not have been aware of the kind of people Harry was going to.

Dumbledore would know what to do. Hagrid ought to take the baby straight to Dumbledore.

Even as the thought entered his mind, another surpassed it. An image of Dumbledore's lined face, creased with disappointment as he realised Hagrid had potentially ruined the chance of a successful placement for Harry. Realised that his faith in Hagrid had been misplaced, and Hagrid was not, in fact, to be trusted with such things after all - member of the Order of the Phoenix or not. Dumbledore telling Hagrid that he shouldn't have gone back. Dumbledore never trusting Hagrid again, and Hagrid being relegated to a mere groundskeeper forever.

Perhaps it would be best to try and rectify the situation first. Find someone else willing to take in the boy before he presented the idea to Dumbledore. Then he could explain that the muggles had refused to take the baby, but he, Hagrid, had solved the problem. In fact, Hagrid knew of the perfect person.

A trustworthy member of the Order, rich enough to support a child, close friend of the Lily and James, certainly capable of protecting Harry. And hadn't he volunteered to take Harry already? Perhaps his choice would even tell Dumbledore how clever Hagrid had been to think of him.

Hagrid brightened, and looked down at Harry. "Looks like its you an' me again eh Harry?" He smiled gruffly, and set off in the direction of London, in search of a certain Sirius Black.

\\\/

It was an open and shut case to start with, there was no doubt of that. Man turns out to be a spy, and causes the death of two friends leaving their son an orphan. When cornered, he then stands in the middle of the street, blows up thirteen people and allows himself be taken away by law enforcement officers immediately afterwards. Open and shut case, no further evidence needed or required. Wouldn't even need a trial really, but that depended on Bartemius Crouch and whether or not he was in quite the mood for allowing a confirmed serial killer to have the opportunity for an audience to gloat to - namely a court of law whose members included close friends of the deceased. Not to mention, he'd heard it was supposed to be awfully busy in court that week.

Alastor Moody grunted to himself with satisfaction, as he mentally reviewed all the convictions he expected to oversee that week. All the murderous death-eater bastards were fleeing like rats on a sinking ship in the wake of their master's demise, and he was the rat catcher. There was nothing in the world Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody liked more than a healthy sample of death-eater scum running scared.

That was why it particularly rankled that on this most special day - possibly the most glorious day for death-eater catching in history - when he could practically _feel_ the heat from the trail the members of Lord Voldemort's inner circle were leaving behind them... he was required to assist a junior auror in the stripping of Sirius Black's house. Just in case they could find anything else to charge him with. Admittedly Grimmauld Place was a dangerous house, and not the sort of place you'd want a junior auror alone. But still, the injustice of having rank pulled on him irritated Moody, and he was in a black mood at all the possible lost chases.

The junior auror was quite aware of his senior officers mood, but not the type to mind particularly. He was a calm, reasonable man. Slow to anger, fast with a wand. He went about his work slowly and methodically, examining room after room of dark artifacts. Grimmauld Place was one of the darkest houses he'd ever encountered, in the three short years he'd been an auror. It seemed like every room had a nasty surprise waiting, and he kept his wits about him.

When the alarm went off signalling someone magical was approaching the house, the junior auror was so focussed on his work that he jumped, startled. "Constant vigilance" Moody hissed, stumping past him quickly, wand in his hand. "Were we expecting anyone, Shacklebolt?"

The junior auror named Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his head. "No one, unless it's one of Black's death eater pals."

Moody's smile became positively feral, leaving no doubt that he would like nothing more than for this to be one of Blacks death eater pals.

They approached the front door treading softly, wands aloft at the ready. Moody glanced towards Kingsley. "On three" he murmured. "One..two... _THREE!"_

The door blasted open, but before even trigger happy Moody could shoot off any spells, they had both recognised the enormous form of the Hogwarts groundskeeper. "Hagrid?" Kingsley said disbelievingly. He'd left Hogwarts only a few years ago, and had been friendly with the lonely giant.

"Hagrid" stated Moody sceptically. As Hagrid blinked in shock and moved to step forwards, Moody poked him in the chest with his wand. "What was the topic of conversation the last time we both met with Dumbledore" He demanded, keeping a wary eye on the street beyond the doorway.

Hagrid looked bewildered, and scratched his head. "The las' time yeh...Oh, tha' was when we was talkin' about you-know-who tryin' to get the giants, weren' it?" He said uncertainly. Moody paused for a moment, then lowered his wand grudgingly.

"Polyjuice doesn't normally work on part humans, but you never know what Snape's come up with" Moody muttered, sounding exceedingly disappointed. "Hagrid, what are you doing here?"

The half giant squeezed through the doorway. Although it was hard to tell as he was blocking all the light, Kingsley thought he looked rather sheepish. "Er...I were jus' lookin' for Sirius like," he said evasively, scratching his massive head. "What are you two doin' here an all?" Kingsley couldn't help but notice he seemed to be clutching something beneath his coat.

"Looking for Sirius?" Kingsley couldn't help but ask with dismay. Hagrid nodded, peering around hopefully. "You haven't...heard?"

"He's in Azkaban Hagrid," Moody barked. "For the betrayal leading to the death of Lily and James Potter, and the murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles." Suddenly Moody's eyes began to whizz, and focussed on the lump under Hagrid's coat. "What," he said, clearly enunciating every word, "is _that_ you have there."

Hagrid turned ashen, and swayed on the spot. "Sirius... Murder..." He seemed to be having difficulty getting the words out. Moody wasn't listening, he was approaching Hagrid with suspicion. Suddenly he flicked his wand at Hagrid. The moleskin coat was yanked back, revealing tucked into the crook of Hagrid's arm, a slumbering baby. But not any baby. A boy with unmistakable jet black hair and an angry slash of red across his forehead.

A boy who was quite clearly Harry Potter.

Moody raised his wand until it was pointing directly at Hagrid's face. "You," he said slowly. "Have quite some explaining to do."

\\\/

It was hard to believe the story, Kingsley admitted to himself. Sirius's apparent concern, Hagrid's promise, relatives that didn't want their orphaned nephew. Hagrid appeared to have gone into shock. They had retired to the kitchen, where he had slumped over the table, still clutching Harry and painstakingly repeated his story, the guilt in his eyes provoking sympathy from Kingsley, and further suspicion from Moody.

Kingsley had been tasked with keeping an eye on Hagrid and Harry, while Moody made some enquiries. Just how the information would be extracted, was not something Kingsley wanted to ask. Best not to know when it came to Moody. As far as he could tell, the senior auror intended to visit the Dursleys to confirm Hagrid's tale, and possibly Dumbledore. Possibly not. Also best not to know.

What it really boiled down to, is what on earth they were supposed to do with the boy.

When Moody returned, the pair were still sitting in silence. Kingsley, because he couldn't think of a thing to say. Hagrid, because he appeared too horrified to speak, except to further apologise and self-castigate.

Baby Harry was still asleep, which left Kingsley more time to think than he cared for. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the comparisons. Kingsley's own young son and baby daughter had been murdered around the same age last year, in a death eater attack that had also claimed his wife. A private grief that the young man rarely spoke of. Although he didn't like to think of the painful past, he was acutely reminded of it by little Harry.

A door banging signalled the return of Moody, and jolted Kingsley from his thoughts.

"Right." Moody grunted, marching to the head of the table. "I went to Dumbledore, asked him his plans for the boy. Seems there's some kind of blood protection on the muggles house, keeps death eaters out. Metaphysical death eater repellant. Only functional when the Dursleys allow Potter to call it home. Now null and void of course, though I didn't tell Dumbledore that." Hagrid had sat up, and appeared to be listening closely.

"The way I see it, the dark lord isn't gone." At this, Hagrid gave a low moan. Moody continued as though he hadn't heard. "He'll be back, and when he does, what use is a lad raised in a muggles house going to be? He'd be slaughtered. Dumbledore is insistent that the boy is the only one who can kill the dark lord -" Here Moody snorted, as though to show what he thought of that idea "- and fat lot of use he'll be if he gets himself killed the first time he sets foot in the wizarding world, because he doesn't know which end of a wand to point."

Kingsley listened with interest. This was practically blasphemy coming from a member of the order. "So," Moody continued, a slightly manic glint coming into his eye. "I propose we take a different tack. For the greater good."

"I suggest we place the boy with a guardian. Someone who can train him in defence from an early age. Someone with an impeccable history of loyalty to the order, the means to hide him with, and the ability to train him with. In short, a mentor, trainer and father all in one." Moody concluded, looking pleased with himself.

Kingsley could see one massive flaw in that plan, and it seemed Hagrid saw it too, for he raised his head to look at Moody. "Dumbledore would never allow it" he said mournfully, stroking Harry's hair with one enormous finger.

"Aha!" If anything, Moody looked even more pleased. "That's the crux of the matter. We don't tell him."

Silence fell. Hagrid looked as though Moody had just proclaimed allegiance to Lord Voldemort and death to all muggles.

"And who," said Kingsley quietly, "were you proposing this mysterious benefactor be? I can't think of a single person I could trust with such a long term mission."

Moody raised a grizzled eyebrow, as though waiting for the younger man to do the maths. "I can think of just one. You, Shacklebolt. You."

Ignoring them sounds of disbelief coming from Hagrid and Kingsley, Moody continued. "I'll have you transferred to an auror division in a different area. Maybe overseas. Harry can't pass as your son of course, unless you say adopted. We'll work out the details soon. You have no ties, you're used to looking after children, you're loyal to the order, but most of all you're a capable auror. If anyone can teach this boy to survive, you can."

Kingsley felt as though his head was going to explode. Hide Harry Potter from Dumbledore and the world? Train him to fight Voldemort? Leave London? Was this what his life has been building up to? It was a crazy idea. Insane. Completely impossible.

"Oh and one last thing." Moody said, turning to Hagrid who was still mouthing silent denials.

" _Obliviate_ "

"Trustworthy, but talks too much after a drink and far too loyal to Dumbledore" Moody growled, stowing his wand and stumping forward to rescue Harry from the bleary eyed giant, looking around in confusion.

"Let's move Shacklebolt." Moody barked. "We've got work to do."

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading. Next chapter is already written, will be up in a day or so.**

 **-Cas**


	2. Meeting The Crew

**Chapter Two.**

 **Disclaimer: Not JKR, but found myself thinking about her in the shower this morning. Used some of the narrative and her original descriptions too, which needless to say she owns.**

\\\/

 _Ten years later._

Kings Cross was busy and noisy on the morning of September the First. Harry unpacked his trunk from the boot of the muggle car, and lifted it easily onto a trolley, before turning to the dark skinned man in the drivers seat. Ten years had added lines to Kingsley Shacklebolt's face, but they were placed around his eyes, suggesting he laughed a great deal. They crinkled as he shook Harry's hand firmly, and rested a large hand on his shoulder.

"Now you be careful," Kingsley said warningly. "Remember what you're here for, and keep your eyes open."

"I know Kings'" Harry replied easily. "Mad-Eye already gave me the talk this morning. Learn everything, establish allies, but don't trust anyone without good reason."

"There's a good lad."

Ten years had also changed Harry Potter a great deal. He was tall for eleven, and moved with an easy strength that suggested some form of physical training. He wore long black hair in dreadlocks tied neatly at the nape of his neck, and had a deep tan that spoke of life in a country with a great deal more sun than Britain.

"I'll see you at Christmas, Kings'," Harry smiled. "Try and get along alright without me won't you. Don't let Mad-Eye pine too much."

"Why you cheeky little..."

Harry cut off his guardians words with a hug, before turning to the station.

\\\/

Harry headed directly towards platforms nine and ten, pushing his luggage trolley and the cage containing his tawny owl Vapour. The owl had been a present for his eighth birthday from Mad-Eye, and had apparently been thoroughly tested to ensure she carried no bird diseases or illnesses, would fly exactly where she was supposed to go, would remain loyal to her human, and of course paranoid old Mad-Eye had double-checked that she wasn't a spy, or dark witch in animagus form. Vapour had put up with this all with good grace, and they had been inseparable ever since.

"— and if you ask me, Dumbledore's finally cracked —"

Harry turned in surprise. The speaker was a haughty looking boy, who was talking to a plump woman and three other boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him.

Harry mentally reviewed his lessons on wizarding families, wary of failing the first test put in front of him. This one was easy: they had to be the Weasleys. He recognised the woman as Molly, but couldn't call to mind the names of her children, which irked him slightly. Mad-Eye wouldn't have been pleased, but then the Weasleys weren't a high priority family.

Harry took a deep breath. The Wesley's were as light a family as it was possible to be. Establish allies. Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now Ginny can you remember, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped the small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand,

"Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

Ginny and Percy, that was it. And the twins had to be Fred and George...which only left the youngest. Here, Harry drew a blank. Hoping it wouldn't matter, he approached the woman.

"Excuse me?" He asked politely.

"Hello dear, can I help?" She said distractedly, taking in his dreadlocks with a slightly disapproving eye.

"I hope so," said Harry, trying very hard to look bashful. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I just wondered if I could walk through with you. Er - avoid a bit of attention." It was a poor pretext, but the best he could invent on the spur of the moment.

"Attention?" Molly asked curiously, then her eyes focused on his forehead, left exposed by his hairstyle. Her mouth formed a little 'o' shape, and she seemed momentarily lost for words, before quickly pulling herself together.

"Not to worry," she said. "Go on now, before Ron."

Harry took a deep breath, and walked quickly towards the barrier he'd heard about for most of his life. One year Kingsley had even taken him to the station in disguise, and they'd spent a morning sitting on a bench nearby watching the wizarding families enter the platform, Kingsley murmuring names in his ear quietly.

Harry remembered watching the children who were old enough to go to Hogwarts already with envy. Now, at last, he was the one walking through the barrier with his own trunk and owl. He moved faster towards the barrier, and broke into a run.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. A grin broke out on his face. This was it. This was the beginning. He was here.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.

Harry smiled at Molly and Ginny as they entered the platform panting, apparently having taken it running. "Thank you for your help" he said politely.

"Oh its no trouble dear," Molly said comfortingly.

Harry nodded at Ginny, as she watched her brothers wistfully. "You're coming to Hogwarts next year?" He asked.

Ginny nodded shyly.

"I'll look out for you." Harry promised. Molly beamed.

\\\/

Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.

Neville. Longbottom? He wondered, mentally noting it for future reference.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Vapour inside first and then lifted his trunk easily into the compartment, stowing it on one of the overhead racks.

Settling down into his seat, Harry gazed out of the window and watched the families milling around. Kingsley had decided it was best if he didn't accompany Harry to the platform, as too many people knew who the auror was on sight. Whilst they had no intention of keeping Harry's upbringing a secret, it would be best if a confrontation didn't take place on a crowded platform in front of any number of others.

As a game, Harry began to mark the families he could identify on the platform. He had just noted a woman he thought was Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, accompanying a cheerful girl who looked about Harry's age - when there was a slight commotion at the end of the platform.

Harry narrowed his eyes, as a small family of three strode along the platform, glancing disdainfully at the crowd. Platinum hair, rich velvety black tailor-made robes and an unmistakable air of smug superiority. This had to be the Malfoys. Keeping an eye on them was his number one priority. Draco Malfoy was described in the briefing as not much of a threat, but prone to shooting his mouth off about his father's illicit activities when trying to impress others, and therefore worth investigating. The briefing also noted that if he turned to the light it could be a massive coup, but not to expect anything hopeful from that direction. Lucius though, sounded considerably more dangerous.

 _Lucius Malfoy_

 _Known member of death eater inner circle. Avoided arrest by claiming imperiurisation in 1981. Related to imprisoned death eaters Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange through marriage to Narcissa Black. Suspected involvement in several incidents of muggle killing, also suspected of supplying the information that led to the breakdown of security around the home of Frank and Alice Longbottom._

 _In his personal life, Lucius resides at Malfoy Manor (unplottable) with his wife Narcissa and their son Draco (born 1980.) He is a high ranking ministry official with connections to potential death eater sympathisers across a wide range of ministry departments, and holds a position of influence over the minister for magic himself. He enjoys fine wines, dining out, and unicorn hunting, (illegal in Great Britain.)_

 _Approach with extreme caution._

The young scion of House Malfoy didn't look too impressive to Harry's trained eye. Draco's ferrety little face was pale and looked like it would burn easily, and he was hiding a nervous twitch under an attempt to look regal. His father was much more convincing. Lucius Malfoy radiated power. Harry had expected this, but shivered nonetheless. Although Harry noted, Lucius carried a cane in his left hand. Harry filed this away, wondering if it indicated a limp, or was just for show.

As the Malfoys moved away, the whistle blew and there was a mad scramble as the last students clambered onto the train, leaning out of windows chatting and waving to their families. "Goodbye!" "Write to me!" Echoed up and down the platform.

The train began to move. Harry caught sight of Molly and Ginny. The boys' mother was waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved. Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window as they left the platform in the distance.

\\\/

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

"No, come in," Harry said. This was even better than they could have planned.

The boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry was amused.

"Hey, Ron."

It was the twins.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "we didn't introduce ourselves on the platform. Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I am. But it's not a big deal really."

"Not a big deal? You defeated you-know-who!" Ron said incredulously.

"Well," Harry said in a measured tone. "Since I was the only one who survived that night, nobody really knows what happened. But Kingsley doesn't think that Voldemort is gone -" Here Ron gasped "- And really, neither do I. So I didn't really defeat him."

Ron goggled at Harry. "You say his name!"

"No reason not to," Harry shrugged. "He's just a jumped up half-blood who attracted a lot of followers based on an ideology that was flawed in the first place"

Harry wondered if he'd gone in a bit too strong when Ron simply stared at him, and decided to change the subject.

"So what are you looking forward to most about Hogwarts?"

Ron brightened immediately. "Quidditch," he answered without hesitation. "I mean, first years can't fly for the house teams, but we can watch at least."

"Did you fly much growing up?' Harry asked curiously.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "I've got five older brothers, and we've been playing in the orchard for years. I don't have my own broom yet, but when Bill left home I got to use his old one. What about you?"

"I would have loved to," Harry sighed. "But broomsticks are outlawed in Uganda where I grew up. Something to do with with smuggling regulations."

"Uganda? What were you doing in Uganda? Isn't that somewhere in wizarding Africa?"

"Its actually a part of muggle Africa too. My guardian Kingsley has family there, and we moved back when I was a baby. I grew up in the wizarding community there."

"What was it like?" Ron asked.

"It was pretty cool actually. Everyone was like a big family, and all the kids were educated together in the local magical school. There's a huge emphasis on what the Western countries call 'accidental' magic when you're a child, and learning to control it. And the African magical animals are sick. Kingsley wouldn't let me bring my snake, Sanna though."

"Damn," Ron sighed. "A snake would have been cool. I've only got Scabbers," he said mournfully, pulling a fat, squashed looking gray rat from his pocket. "And he's useless. Hardly ever wakes up."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry looked with interest at the British sweets and cakes. He'd spent a bit of time in England with Mad-Eye Moody in recent years, but there hadn't been much time for confectionery when he was working with the grizzled old auror. Ron turned red and mumbled something about sandwiches. Harry however, bought some of everything and made sure there was enough for Ron.

Ron stared as Harry brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef.."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on —"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

Harry leaned forwards and took the sandwiches from Ron's hand. Unlatching the compartment window, he lobbed them out. Rob stared as they disappeared into the distance.

"Hey! Those were my -"

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry. "I owe you one now, after my hand slipped just then."

Harry inwardly smirked as Ron helped himself to pasties, cakes and sweets. Food was a great way to make friends.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry. "Toads are amazing at finding their owners again."

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

"What's your name?" Harry asked, keen to see if his earlier suspicion had been correct.

"Neville. Neville Longbottom," replied the boy.

"Are you...the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom?" Harry asked carefully.

Neville's face crumpled a little. "Yes," he whispered with his head down.

"I'm sorry." Harry said sincerely. "I'm Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley. I don't know if anyone ever told you, but my mother was your godmother. In another time, we might have known each other well by now."

Neville looked stunned, and Ron turned to stare.

"Gran never mentioned.."

"I'm just guessing, but maybe it's a painful topic" Harry said carefully. "But you're welcome to sit with us, right Ron?"

Ron nodded, still staring. "Thanks," Neville said, still looking slightly shell-shocked. "But I should really find Trevor..."

"He'll show up," Ron said suddenly. "Sit down. What's your favourite quidditch team mate?"

\\\/

A little while later the door slid open again. This time a girl was standing there. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"There you are Neville!" She said accusingly. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. "I wasn't sure where you'd gone, but I couldn't find your toad anywhere."

"Its alright," Neville said shyly. "I've just been talking to Harry and Ron. Sorry I didn't come back."

The girl looked interested. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said, then her eyes widened as she caught sight of Harry's scar. "Are you _Harry Potter?"_

"Yes," Harry sighed. Two minutes in wizarding Britain and this was already getting old.

""I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Oh" said Harry, hoping she'd let it drop.

"And it's just fascinating," Hermione gushed. "Reading about how you defeated him when you were just a baby and-"

"If you're reading books on wizarding history, can I assume you're muggleborn?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said guardedly. "And?"

"Well it's just that if you've studied muggle history at all, you'll know that you can't always trust books. The version of events changes based on who you talk to, and no battle is won by one person alone. There were hundreds of witches and wizards who fought Lord Voldemort; I was just a baby in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"My Gran said it's ridiculous, authors pretending they know what happened," piped up Neville from the corner. "They wrote about my mum and dad as well, until Gran stopped them."

Hermione looked shocked, then thoughtful. "I suppose you're right" she said, taking a seat by Ron, who looked at her askance. "Nobody really knows how you killed him."

"Actually," Harry said quietly, "I'm pretty sure I didn't kill him. Just got rid of him for a little bit. But he'll be back."

Hermione and Neville stared. "How can you know that?" Neville whispered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "We just do. Dumbledore doesn't think he's gone, and I've been preparing to fight him my entire life."

"With Dumbledore?" Ron asked, sounding awestruck.

"Nah," Harry laughed. "Dumbledore didn't even know I was in Uganda. Dumbledore wanted to dump me on some muggles relatives who hated me, but I ended up with Kingsley and Mad-Eye instead. I imagine Dumbledore will cause a bit of a scene when he finds out. I'm really looking forwards to that part."

Harry looked around to see three stunned faces staring at him.

"You mean Mad-Eye _Moody?"_ Ron was the first to recover.

"Yes, he covered a lot of my training in Britain, usually when Kingsley was on assignment. You know him?"

"My dad does. He's a legendary auror!"

"He's a tough mentor" Harry agreed, "But don't let the eye fool you. He's a real sweetie underneath."

" _Really?_ "

Harry laughed. "No. He's a total bastard."

"I've read about him too," Hermione said interestedly. "Do you think I could meet him? I have so many questions."

"Maybe," Harry said warily. "He's not much of a people person to tell you the truth."

The conversation turned to families. Neville confessed that at times he had been worried life with his grandmother was going to actually kill him. Hermione spoke nervously of how she had struggled to make any friends in the muggles world, but at least had a supportive family. Ron spoke ruefully about the drawbacks of having five brothers. Harry listened with interest. He had no experience of what a normal family was supposed to be like, having shifted around a lot. Moving backwards and forwards between Uganda and Britain had also made it hard to make friends, as he was never in the same place for long enough.

As they kept talking, a warm glow seemed to spread itself through Harry as he wondered if this was what having friends was like. The conversation lapsed for a while, and they watched the rugged hills go by in the gradually dimming light. Eventually Hermione spoke again:

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Neville said gloomily. "Gran will kill me."

"I need to get into Gryffindor" Ron sighed. "Or I'll never hear the end of it."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"It wouldn't matter" Harry said firmly.

"Easy for you to say" Ron muttered.

"Just think though Ron," Harry encouraged. "It can't be easy feeling like you have to live up to five brothers. Being in a different house might help you stand out, become who _you_ are, rather than just another Weasley."

Ron looked thoughtful. Hermione sighed. "I guess if we get sorted into different houses we won't see each other that much," she said sadly. "And it's been so nice having people to talk to. I was so nervous I wouldn't find anyone at all."

"No," Harry insisted, realising this was the perfect opportunity to put into practice something he had been considering ever since he learned about the house system and it various rivalries.

"No let's not be like that. I means look at us, sitting here in this carriage. We get along fine. Why should we let a difference in houses change that? Let's make a pact, that no matter what houses we end up in, we'll stay friends."

Hermione agreed immediately, and Neville after a moment of thought. Ron looked at Harry oddly, and then agreed "- Unless any of you lot turn out to be stinking Slytherins. Then the deal's off."

They all laughed.

\\\/

A little while later there was a noise in the corridor, and then the compartment door slid open. Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale blond son of Lucius Malfoy; Draco. He was looking at Harry with a lot of interest.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards. He wasn't sure who they were at all, and didn't think he'd seen pictures of them, although he might know more about their fathers.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"Let me see," Harry said consideringly. "You're right, I don't want to make friends with the wrong sort." He made a great show of looking around the compartment as though assessing its occupants.

"Hm. Neville here, last son of the prestigious Longbottom house, heir to the Longbottom fortune and son of respected aurors Frank and Alice. His grandmother is also a member of the Wizengamot.

"Ron Weasley, member of highly regarded and respected wizarding family the Weasleys, who were heroes in the last war and well regarded by Dumbledore himself.

"And of course, Hermione Granger. A first generation witch who informs me she has already memorised all our textbooks, studied wizarding history, and I confidently expect her to out perform you on every test."

Harry looked Draco up and down. "Compared to...son of a death eater who bought his way out of Azkaban on a pathetic whimper of an excuse, and the two eleven year old bodyguards he's too scared to walk around without?" Behind him, Ron barked a shocked laugh.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and mudbloods, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"Enough Malfoy," Harry said warningly. "Leave now, and we can forget this happened. Carry on, and you've brought it on yourself."

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Harry didn't let things escalate any further. "Fine," he said coolly.

Remembering his lessons, Harry centred himself, and breathed in deeply, summoning up the buzz of energy that ran below his skin at all times; the very essence of his magic. Then he let it go.

The three boys were lifted off their feet by an invisible force, and slammed backwards out of the compartment to hit the corridor opposite, sliding down to crumple in a heap.

Harry very deliberately stepped forward and closed the compartment door, then locked it.

"What," Ron sounded slightly choked, "the _hell_ was that?"

Harry returned back to his seat, breathing hard. "Accidental magic."

Hermione got it first. He could practically see the comprehension dawn in her eyes. "You can control it?" She asked excitedly.

"Yes, in fact every magical child can to an extent. It just requires being taught a bit of focus, but for some reason Wizarding Britain doesn't even seem to want to explore the possibility. In Uganda, its a normal part of a magical child's education."

"What are the limits?" Hermione said, pulling a notebook and pen from her pocket.

"Its pretty flexible, but doesn't last long," Harry told her. "Just imagine all the strange stuff you made happen as a child, then imagine you were doing it deliberately. It works for anything, but isn't very strong or permanent. Having a wand is like a catalyst that increases it a hundred-fold, and gives it better direction."

Neville looked quite upset. "I must have almost no magic then," he said. "I barely showed any signs as a child, it took my Great Uncle Algie dropping me out of a window before I showed any."

"Maybe you were just late bloomer," Hermione said comfortingly.

Ron, on the other hand, was looking at Harry disbelievingly. " _That_ isn't very strong?"

"Not really. All I did was the magical version of giving them a shove backwards."

Ron nodded slowly, looking intrigued by the possibility.

Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train seemed to be slowing down.

"Looks like we're nearly here. We should get changed," he suggested.

Hermione and Neville left to return to their compartment. He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for  
him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with excitement but Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a gruff voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

A giant loomed out of the darkness, with a wild, hairy face. Harry should have been alarmed, but instead felt a lurch of recognition he couldn't explain.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville and Hermione had caught up to them, though Neville seemed to be having trouble keeping his balance.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," their guide called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" The man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted the enormous man, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled the man as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle,until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said the giant, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after the lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

The man raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

\\\/

 **Thanks for taking the time to read.**

 **\- Cas**


	3. Sorting Hats and Slytherins

**Chapter Three**

 **Disclaimer: Not JKR as usual. Still wish I was. Very sad.**

\\\/

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Unfortunately he had a very strong feeling that he was going to have to.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the large man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry smoothed back his dreadlocks calmly.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry grinned. He'd heard all about Minerva McGonagall from Kingsley and Made-Eye, and was delighted to find that they hadn't exaggerated at all.

"She's great, isn't she?" He commented. "Really sets the mood."

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Neville asked plaintively.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Ron said, looking sickly.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry laughed. "Five brothers already gone through Hogwarts, and none of them told you how the sorting works?"

Ron looked slightly sheepish.

"You just put on a hat, and it looks inside your mind and tells you where to go"

"A hat?" Hermione chimed in, sounding rather put out. "How can a hat read your mind?"

"Well I'm not entirely sure," Harry deadpanned. "But I think there might be magic involved."

Several of the other students appeared to be listening in on their conversation, and seemed relieved. Then something happened that made them all jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed.

"What the —?"

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying:

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though he was walking to meet his destiny, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

\\\/

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place, not in his wildest imagination. The finest homes of Wizarding Uganda looked like hovels next to this place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the  
students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:

 _Oh can you credit it, what a lark!_

 _Here we are again_

 _Another year, another choice_

 _I'll peek inside your brain_

 _I'll tell you what, I'll tell you how_

 _And then I'll tell some more_

 _I'll know just where to put you each_

 _In the founded four_

 _Gryffindor, so brave and wild!_

 _Daring, dashing, bold_

 _Do you hold with Godric's kin?_

 _Our chivalrous friends of old_

 _Or perhaps another house?_

 _Ravenclaw might be the one_

 _If knowledge is power, and learning is key_

 _This is where you belong_

 _Hufflepuff for loyalty_

 _Hard work, and dearest friends_

 _If I sense a heart to do Helga proud_

 _This is where you'll be sent_

 _Last but not least, our clever friends_

 _For the most ambitious among you_

 _Slytherin holds with search for power_

 _In their cunning crew_

 _Oh put me on, try me out for size_

 _Pull me snug down over your ears_

 _I'll try you all, I'll sort you out_

 _So never mind your fears_

 _You'll end up right where you belong_

 _I know just where, in fact_

 _I'm rarely wrong, I'm always right_

 _For I'm the sorting hat!_

Harry grinned as the hat came to the end of its song and the great hall exploded in cheers. The hat bowed to each of the four tables, and then fell quiet.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. A few more names joined each house, and Harry paid close attention. It was always useful to remember people's names. Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. The hat seemed to be taking a little while to consider this, and Harry could see Hermione's lips moving silently beneath the brim, as though she were arguing with the hat, or perhaps asking it endless questions.

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted at last, and the Ravenclaw table burst into applause. Hermione headed over, looking vaguely resigned.

When Neville Longbottom, was called, he almost tripped over himself. Harry exerted his magic silently, and Neville righted himself, blushing. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR," Neville gave a heartfelt sigh of relief. Harry managed to catch his eye, and give him an encouraging smile.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Harry though was watching closer than the others. In spite of his outward bluster, Malfoy, like Neville, looked like a great weight had lifted from his shoulders when he was placed in his preferred house.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"… , "Nott"… , "Parkinson"… , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"… , then "Perks, Sally-Anne"… , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited politely for the hat to speak first.

"Oh my," said a small voice in his ear. "Oh dear, oh dear. The headmaster will not be pleased."

What's wrong? Harry thought.

"Wrong? Oh nothing wrong, no..." The hat said, seeming to be talking to itself. "You've plenty of courage, and you're certainly clever enough. Almost too clever for your own good really. But what really defines you..."

The hat appeared to be talking itself into something. "And of course people must go where they really belong, not where the headmaster expects them. But oh dear oh dear..."

Harry chuckled to himself. Are you telling me what I think you're telling me? He asked the hat silently.

"I'm afraid so," the hat sighed. "So much cunning, such a desire to achieve great things, it can really only be-

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry took the hat off his head to be greeted with absolute silence. The entire hall was staring at him in shock. Even Ron looked thunderstruck, and Hermione was biting her lip at the Ravenclaw table. The applause began from the staff table, and slowly carried across the great hall, but died away quickly. Harry could see Fred and George looking unusually serious over at the Gryffindor table.

Harry sighed. This was most frustrating, that something so simple as what house you were sorted into could completely change how people thought of you. He hoped his earlier suspicions had been correct, and this wouldn't make things too difficult.

"Come on people, never seen a Slytherin sorted before?" Harry said, his voice carrying across the great hall.

"That will be _quite_ enough," Professor McGonagall said, taking the hat from Harry and handing it to the next person. Harry laughed quietly, and strode over to the Slytherin table, taking a seat with the other first years, nodding at them.

He had expected this, really. An entire lifetime training to defeat the darkest wizard of all time would give someone a healthy respect for the dark arts. And he certainly had cunning and ambition - cunning might be the only way to defeat the bastard Riddle, and if he had to become the inside man in Slytherin house in order to do it, so much the better.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, the giant who had taken them across the lake. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from his 's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

Dumbledore was looking intently at Harry, and a slight frown marred his face.

 _Albus Dumbledore._

 _Leader and founding member of The Order of the Phoenix. Headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A great warrior of the light, most famous for his defeat of Gellert Grindelwald. Albus Dumbledore also holds several other notable positions in Wizarding society. Potentially a great ally, but had previously shown tendencies of poor judgement, such as attempting to place Harry Potter with Vernon and Petunia Dursley._

 _[See more in appendix]_

 _Approach carefully. Do not make enemy without good cause, but be wary of sharing information or trusting overtly._

Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, another character from his briefings. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

 _Quirinus Quirrell_

 _Expected to take the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in September 1991. Talented and experienced spellcaster, however was recently flagged by local surveillance while visiting Albania, the last know whereabouts of Tom Riddle. Not a known sympathiser to the death eater movement, nonetheless, the information should not be discounted._

 _Approach with suspicion._

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a black boy even taller than Ron, joined the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now.

The hat seemed to be taking a very long time to decide, and Ron's face was growing steadily paler until it resembled porridge. A moment later-

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ron say there for a moment, as though he couldn't believe it, as though he expected the hat to change its mind. When no further words were forthcoming, he removed it with shaking hands and placed it on the stool carefully. He looked towards the Gryffindor table where his brothers were staring in undisguised horror, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to disregard the hat and join them regardless.

Then he straightened his shoulders, and turned towards the Slytherin table. Harry applauded enthusiastically and cheered loudly, and after a moment, the rest of the house joined in.

Ron sank into the seat next to Harry, looking as though he wanted the floor to swallow him. "Oh my god..." He moaned. "Every Weasley for five generations has been a Gryffindor. What on earth am I going to tell mum and dad..."

Harry tried to be comforting. "Don't worry mate. You're still the same person you were yesterday, it's just a house."

"You don't understand. This is a big deal for my family - I'll be surprised if my brothers ever speak to me again."

Before Harry could answer, a loud voice brayed from further along the table-

"Merlin this place is going to the dogs when even a Weasley can get into Slytherin. I wonder if his fat mother will die of shock."

Malfoy smirked at Harry and Ron. Ron made to stand up, but before he had moved Harry had risen fluidly from his seat, leaned across the table and punched Malfoy in the mouth. Malfoy collapsed into his seat, hands covering his mouth with shock as blood leaked between his fingers.

"I'd keep your mouth shut if I was you, arrogant death-eater scum," Harry said calmly, and resumed his place at the table.

"Don't worry Ron. Just because we're in Slytherin, doesn't mean we have to mix with the likes of that."

The rest of Slytherin house were staring with unreadable expressions, except for the other first years who looked terrified.

A hand came down upon Harry's shoulder. " _Mister_ Potter."

Harry turned to see a tall, dark haired man with a hooked nose and menacing aura. It was impossible to identify him as anything but Severus Snape.

 _Severus Snape_

 _Joined the death-eaters in 1979 and rose swiftly through the ranks to the inner circle. Was arrested in 1981 after the fall of Tom Riddle, but acquitted on evidence provided by Albus Dumbledore. Now serves as Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Maintains close ties to Lucius Malfoy and was named Godfather to Draco Malfoy in 1981._

 _Albus Dumbledore provided evidence at trial that Severus Snape became a spy for The Order of the Phoenix in 1980. The evidence has never been a matter of public record, and indeed has never been shared outside the courtroom. Great scepticism exists around whether or not Severus Snape was innocent._

 _Approach with caution._

"Yes professor?"

"That behaviour is absolutely unacceptable. You will learn very quickly that this is not how things are done at Hogwarts, and certainly not how they are done in Slytherin. Two points from Slytherin for fighting like a muggle."

"Yes sir. Will Malfoy lose any points for insulting a fellow Slytherin's family?" Harry enquired innocently. Getting on the right side of Severus Snape could be vital in ascertaining whether or not he was genuinely loyal to Dumbledore and the Order, and provoking him further would only be counter-productive. Not that it made it any less tempting. Harry loved being a smart-ass.

"Two points from Slytherin Mister Malfoy. And I will have someone take you to the hospital wing," Snape said through gritted teeth. "Pucey! Take Malfoy to the hospital wing."

"Yes sir," said a burly looking older Slytherin boy wearing Prefects badge. "Come on Malfoy."

Ron stared at Harry after they left. "That was one hell of a punch," he whistled. Watching Malfoy get decked seemed to have cheered him up.

"I practice a lot," Harry smirked.

"Why didn't you use that accidental magic thing again?" Ron asked.

"Because he was expecting it, and would probably use it as an opportunity to get me into trouble. And, well...sometimes punching someone is just more satisfying."

The other first years Slytherins were gazing at Harry and Ron with undisguised interest.

"Did you really that was was wise?" Asked a dark-skinned boy with deep, unreadable eyes.

"Yes," Harry answered. "Ron isn't the first person to be sorted into a different house from their whole family. And that's certainly no reason for a little prick like Malfoy to be insulting. Start as you mean to continue, and all that."

A heavy-set Slytherin seventh year suddenly barked a laugh. "I think the little half-blood might have a point."

Harry levelled his gaze. "And you are?"

"Flint, Marcus Flint."

" _Don't_ refer to me as 'the little half-blood' unless you want me to refer to you as Slytherin house's pet pureblood troll."

Now all the first years were laughing. Flint flushed an ugly red.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry burst out laughing. Even Mad-Eye and Kingsley hadn't prepared him for Dumbledore.

\\\/

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "Are you kidding me?" He muttered to Ron. "What's more likely to get people to go there than telling them that?"

Dumbledore beamed at them all. "And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

\\\/

Harry was surprised and pleased when Hermione, then after a moment's hesitation, Neville - rushed over to the Slytherin table.

Hermione spoke very fast. "I just wanted you to know Harry that I remembered what you said and you're right, what house you're in doesn't change who you are and if you meant what you said I'd really like to still be friends if we can-"

"Woah!" Harry cut her off laughing. "Of course we can. Its just a house after all. How's Ravenclaw?"

"I don't really know yet, we've been talking about lessons all evening and it's so interesting though!"

"Wish Gryffindor had been talking about lessons," Neville said miserably. "All everyone's talked about is how you and Ron ended up in Slytherin. Half of them think you're the next dark lord already. Ron's brothers are furious, they're going to ask Dumbledore for a resorting for Ron."

Ron's ears turned pink. "I don't need a resorting," he said. "I wish I did, but the hat told me why it was putting me in Slytherin and it was right, even if I didn't want to believe it."

Harry glanced up at the top table to see the red-headed Weasley brothers Fred, George and Percy indeed locked in what looked like furious debate with Professor McGonagall.

"Don't worry Ron," he said bracingly. "Almost my whole family have been Gryffindors too, and so were my guardians. We're not ruining anything, we're just shaking it up a little."

"Its not a bad thing," Neville agreed. "I didn't want to be in Gryffindor, I'm not brave at all, but the hat put me there anyway."

"I wanted to be in Gryffindor, but apparently the hat didn't agree," Hermione sniffed.

Harry stared at them all, then burst out laughing. "None of you got where you wanted to be?" He said, chuckling.

The trio shook their heads mutely.

"Well embrace it! Throw away your preconceptions of who you are, and let's run with the new version."

Noticing the Slytherins were all getting up to leave, he added- "And we'll see you tomorrow for breakfast I hope. House difference or not!"

Hermione and Neville left to return to their house tables, and Harry and Ron joined the other Slytherins ready to depart the hall.

\\\/

Adrian Pucey, the prefect who had taken Malfoy to the hospital wing, was rounding up the first years. He shot Ron and Harry a look of irritation as they fell into last place. "Come along now first years," he said in a snooty voice. "You don't want to get lost, or we'll have to send the Baron out to find you."

Harry looked back at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. The first years clustered rather closer together, and even Harry grimaced.

They marched through a long hall, and down several flights of stairs. Harry stared with interest at the moving portraits all along the walls who waved to them merrily. Portraits weren't common in Wizarding Uganda and the only ones Harry had seen had been on his trips to the Ministry of Magic in disguise, with Mad-Eye. Those had all been rather dull portraits of notable politicians, but these seemed to capture every age, era and walk of life.

Pucey led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, and down ever more flights of stairs. Gradually the warmth of the great castle above faded as they moved into what was clearly the dungeons, with bare stone walls and the ominous dripping of water somewhere in the distance. Just when the first years thought they could walk no further, they came to a halt in front of a blank stretch of stone wall.

"Severita Maxia" Pucey said firmly to the wall. It melted away to reveal a cold stone passage. "Follow me," Pucey commanded imperiously.

They walked for a few moments along a damp passage, and then exited into the Slytherin common room. It was a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs. The dungeon appeared to extend partway under the lake, which was giving the light in the room a green tinge. The common room had lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas; skulls; and dark wood cupboards. It had quite a grand atmosphere, but also quite a cold one.

The first years huddled together, shivering in the chill. "Wait here while the rest of the house arrives," Pucey told them. "Professor Snape will address Slytherin house shortly."

The room slowly filled, while Harry looked around with interest. Neither of his guardians had been in Slytherin, and consequently he had no idea what to expect. Ron seemed to have forgotten his earlier cavalier attitude, for he had gone pale again and looked deeply unhappy.

A dark wooden door opened with a bang,and Professor Snape entered, his deep black robes swirling around his feet.

"Good evening Slytherin house," he said. His voice was very cold.

"Good evening Professor Snape," they chanted.

Snape strode to the front of the room and addressed them all, his eyes sweeping over them.

"Welcome back to our returning students,and welcome to our Slytherin first years. Ours is a proud house, and it is the highest duty of every Slytherin student to obey its code and bring it great honour. We have won the house cup for the last six years running, and I hope you will all do your utmost to keep it in our hands.

"In Slytherin, we do not believe in the chaotic and slap dash manner in which the others houses conduct themselves. A high standard of uniform is expected at all times, as is that you will apply yourself to your work with the greatest attention.

"In return, we look after our own. Bring honour to Slytherin house, and Slytherin will bring honour to you. Bullying is not tolerated, neither is fighting." Here, his eyes rested on Harry for a moment.

"If you have a dispute, you bring it to _me_ and I decide whether it is worthy or not of a duel to decide the victor. Any deviation from this will result in punishment.

"Outside of our house, Slytherin students must watch their back at all times. We are reviled by the other houses,and must be prepared for a potential sneak attack."

"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered.

" _What,_ was that Potter?"

"I said 'constant vigilance,' sir. A phrase my mentor is fond of saying. You reminded me of it, that's all."

Harry saw a brief look of shock pass over the man's face, but Snape quickly schooled his features. "Do not interrupt, Potter.

" As I was saying. We must watch out for one another, and be prepared for anything. Slytherin house is now your family while you are at Hogwarts - do not forget it.

"You may now retire to your dormitories. I will expect you to reach breakfast in a timely manner tomorrow. Pucey will be available to lead the first years."

With that, he left the room is a swirl of black robes. Harry sniggered under his breath. The theatrics were just too much.

Pucey directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the bottom of a spiral staircase — they were obviously still under the lake — they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep green, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

"Yeah, and Snape sounds good for a laugh," Harry replied.

He almost felt Ron shudder. "Don't remind me I'm in Slytherin" he moaned. "I'd almost forgotten."

Harry laughed, and was going to say more but he was so tired he fell asleep almost immediately.

\\\/

 **Thanks all for reading.**

 **A brief note - thank you reviewer, for pointing out that Sirius wasn't living at Grimmauld Place in the first chapter. I was kind of aware of that in the back of my mind, but ignored it for easy writing. I know it's lazy and not checking my canon facts, but I'm just trying to get this out the best I can. I have a 2 month old baby and it's kind of turning my mind into mush right now.**

 **Any further mistakes pointed out would be gratefully noted. Thank you for taking the time to help me improve my story.**

 **Updates should be every two days. I'm hoping to have finished first year in the next month or so.**

 **-Cas**


	4. Weasley's and Wandless Magic

**Chapter Four**

 **Disclaimer: Not JKR as per.**

\\\/

"That one, see?"

"Over there, next to the kid with red hair."

"The one with the dreadlocks?"

"Thats the one."

"Slytherin, can you believe it?"

"I heard he learnt to use the killing curse with his eyes."

"I heard he's you-know-who's son"

"My parents told me to make friends with him, they won't be happy."

"Do you think his hair's real?"

"Do you think his scar's real?"

"Did you see him punch that kid last night?"

The whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory with Ron the next day. Pucey led the first years up to the Great Hall in a long, snaking line which irritated Harry, as he had been hoping to do some exploring and discovering.

Hogwarts was a confusing place, and Harry needed to memorise its exact layout as soon as possible. That included a hundred and forty two staircases, two hundred and seventy corridors, a dubious number of floors and a ridiculous number of classrooms. Not to mention three other houses, several towers, a library, kitchen, owlery and hundreds of other miscellaneous rooms. It was very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and the coats of armor could walk.

"This place needs a decent map," Harry muttered to Ron, who agreed fervently.

During breakfast Harry and Ron both wrote letters home, describing their first night and their sorting. Harry suspected his contained slightly different information to Ron's though.

 _Dear Kingsley and Mad-Eye_

 _Kings, greetings from Hogwarts._

 _Mad-Eye, it was you who took me to visit Perry and her husband when I was nine, and we all had fish and chips while you discussed the merits of the newly invented age line. Yes, its really me. No, I'm not being forced to write this under duress, and I'm using truth ink so I can't lie - you can check._

 _Anyway, Hogwarts is fantastic. I was sorted into Slytherin like we expected, and so was Ron Weasley - which no-one expected. I'm quite pleased though, because it gives me a link to the Weasley family, and he seems like a nice enough bloke._

 _I saw the Malfoys on the platform, but they didn't see me. When I encountered Malfoy Junior, Plan A to make friends with him was impossible, as he was shooting his mouth off about Weasleys and Mudbloods, and so I went with Plan B and blasted him and his friends across the train. He didn't seem to learn, and spouted some crap at dinner too, so I punched him. That worked, he hasn't looked in our direction since. I remembered what you said about making it a short, sharp lesson._

 _I also encountered Neville Longbottom. He seems very nervous and clumsy, nothing like his parents as you described them. However, he was sorted into Gryffindor which suggests something underneath all that which is much more impressive. I suspect his grandmother has something to do with his nervous demeanour, so I'll work on that this term._

 _Finally, I met a muggleborn girl called Hermione Granger on the train. Mad-Eye, could you run a background check for me? She's an unknown quantity, as I know nothing about her thus far. However she seemed well-informed, well-researched and intelligent. In fact she seemed so determined to prove herself that I almost expected her to be in Slytherin too. No such luck, she's a Ravenclaw._

 _So to round it up, as far as allies/friends go, we have Ron Weasley in Slytherin, Hermione Granger in Ravenclaw and Neville Longbottom in Gryffindor. Operation Zoo seems to be coming along fine - I'll work on the badger side of things when I get the chance._

 _Snape is my head of house. As we discussed, I've been polite. It's pissing me off, when all I want to do is start quizzing him, but I remembered what you said about how useful he could be to us if he is, in fact, on our side. He wasn't as bad as you led me to expect - my being in Slytherin seems to have won out over my being a Potter. I also dropped a hint about you, so I'm expecting a confrontation soon, possibly with Dumbledore too. I hope so, I'm particularly excited about that part of the plan._

 _That's all I can think of for now, do let me know if there's anything I'm forgetting._

 _Hope you're all well, and please pass my love on to Sanna._

 _Harry._

"What's Operation Zoo?" Ron said, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"Inter-house unity," Harry said cheerfully, rolling up the long letter. "To give us a fighting chance at defeating any future potential resurrected dark lords."

Ron gaped at him. "You're serious about this you-know-who not being dead thing?"

"Yep. But don't let it put you off your breakfast - he's a long, long way from here."

Ron stared for a long moment, then shook his head and returned to his bacon. Harry's eccentricities seemed too much for him first thing in the morning.

\\\/

Breakfast was barely over when the Slytherin table was visited by three red-heads.

The Weasleys descended on Ron in a flurry of consolations and shocked whispers. Fred and George wrapped an arm around his shoulders each.

"We asked Professor McGonagall -"

"If you could be resorted but-"

"She said the sorting hat was never wrong-"

"And that family precedent was no good reason-"

"For you to be in the same house as us."

Percy interjected in a pompous tone:

"I owled mother and father last night to inform them of the news, but haven't heard back yet. I expect there will be no way to keep it from Ginny, but I do hope you try your best not to exert any influence in that direction Ron. Ginny needs the guidance of her _Gryffindor_ brothers when she comes to Hogwarts." Percy cast a scathing eye along the Slytherin table.

Ron was sinking further and further into his seat. Harry didn't think they were being entirely fair, but was reluctant to step into what was clearly a family matter. Other Slytherins though, clearly had no such concerns.

"Hey, you don't have to talk about us as if we're scum, you know!" A blond girl sitting on the other side of the table called out loudly, gaining the attention of some of the other Slytherins. Even Draco Malfoy, who was sitting as far away from Harry and Ron as possible, looked interested.

Percy looked affronted. "This is a family matter, miss...?"

"Greengrass." The girl replied coolly. "And family matter it might be, but our houses are supposed to be families, and it seems to me like you're being rather insulting to our Slytherin family - which includes your brother."

"C'mon Perce," Ron said uncomfortably, although he shot a grateful look at the blond girl. "The hat nearly put me in Gryffindor, it just said that I had a lot of ambition."

Percy looked slightly put out. "I'm ambitious," he pointed out. "And I ended up in Gryffindor."

"Yes but we're all different."

Fred and George had been watching the debate with interest, and Harry leaned towards them quietly, trying to attract their attention. "Can't you do something?" He whispered. "Ron's your brother, and I'm sure Percy means well, but he's upsetting him."

"We would try, but-"

"When Percy gets on a roll like that-"

"He's like mum, it's best to wait it out."

One of them looked at Harry suspiciously. "How come you ended up in Slytherin anyway? You're the Boy-Who-Lived and defeated the greatest dark lord of all time, you should have an AAA pass to Gryffindor!"

Harry smirked at them. "I guess I have a desire to prove myself, and a burning ambition to bring down a certain dark lord, which might require a large amount of cunning."

The twins looked at each other.

"Is he serious?"

"I think he might be serious"

"But if he's serious that could mean all sorts of trouble."

"Danger to our little Ron."

"We can't have that."

"Oh no."

"Not our little Ron."

They both turned back to Harry.

"You better keep our little Ron safe," one said.

"I can take care of myself!" Ron interjected grumpily. His conversation with Percy seemed to have ended with an impasse, as neither looked happy. The blond girl was also sitting with her nose in the air.

"Stay safe then little Ron," the twins chorused, and all three departed.

Ron buried his head in his hands. "Just once," he said, his voice muffled. "Just once I'd like to not be the youngest brother in a family of seven."

\\\/

Harry had been hoping to catch up with Hermione and Neville again at breakfast, but timetables were being handed out down the tables, leaving no opportunity to abandon their house. He and Ron eagerly studied their week. One thing was for sure; it was full on.

Harry enjoyed the first week thoroughly. His early grounding in magic saw him well through the practical aspects. Astronomy was fun, as it had been covered in his magical primary school. But the English stars presented a different and exciting challenge from the Ugandan night skies. Herbology was also a new experience, as the strange plants and fungi varied greatly from any Harry had seen outside his textbook. History of Magic though had Harry wondering if the entire course was a joke. Harry was particularly well-versed in history, but the ghost of Professor Binns was such a poor teacher Harry thought he could probably teach the class better himself.

Charms was excellent. Although they didn't undertake any practical work during the first few sessions, Harry found the theory they discussed fascinating, and very different to what he had been raised to know. By the end of the first lesson, Professor Flitwick had excitedly begun to pull Harry aside at the end of the lesson to ask for his opinion on the material, as Harry's background had taught him to approach it in such a different manner.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. He had also been right to think he might unfortunately find himself in the position of crossing her. Really though, it wasn't his fault that hers was the first class he had to use his wand in.

Harry had been looking forward to learning transfiguration. It was virtually impossible to change the essence of things in the 'accidental magic' he had been taught how to use, and ever since buying his first wand at the Ugandan Magic Market last year, he had been itching to try out some real, controlled magic. Kingsley had grounded him thoroughly in the theory, but he was excited to finally be able to practice.

After taking pages of detailed notes, Professor McGonagall gave them each a match, and instructed them to attempt to turn it into a needle.

Harry was sitting with Ron, who looked a little nervous. "You first," Ron muttered.

Harry looked at the needle, and raised his wand, concentrating hard. Out of habit, he visualised what he wanted to happen, but before he could even say a word or use the proper movement with his wand, something changed.

A silver needle appeared on the desk in place of the match.

Ron stared. "You didn't even say the words!" He sounded accusing.

The rest of the Slytherins also turned to stare. Harry shrugged, embarrassed. "I don't know what I did, I was just thinking about it and it happened. I didn't mean to make it happen."

"What did you do Potter?" Professor McGonagall demanded, bearing down on them.

"I just... Waved my wand."

"That's impossible."

"Improbable," Harry corrected. "I was taught that it was impossible to transfigure things without the appropriate phrasing, but then I was also taught that 'impossible' is not a word that should be applied to magic, when after all so many new discoveries are made every day."

"Who taught you that?"

"My school," Harry replied. Although he had great respect for Minerva McGonagall, he couldn't deny he was enjoying playing dumb. If he baited enough teachers, eventually Dumbledore would come to him for answers. And then he could demand answers of his own.

Professor McGonagall looked like she was going to start shouting at any moment, but she controlled herself. "Your _muggle_ school?"

"No" Harry replied happily. This was it, the real cruncher. "The magical school I attended."

The rest of the class was hanging off their every word. Malfoy in particular looked like he was trying to memorise everything Harry said, no doubt to later repeat back to his father, but couldn't resist getting a few words in.

"There are no magical schools in Britain Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Perhaps you were in a club for muggle magic tricks, and didn't know the difference."

"I'm well aware that the ministry bans magical primary schools in Britain Malfoy," Harry replied calmly. "But luckily for me, I wasn't raised in Britain."

Professor McGonagall was pale. "Not...raised in Britain?" She asked weakly.

"No," Harry told her casually. "I was raised in Wizarding Uganda, although I did come to Britain a lot with my mentor, Alastor Moody."

The mischievous side of Harry would treasure the look on Professor McGonagall's face for the rest of his life.

Professor McGonagall looked very much as though she would like to begin questioning him immediately. However she controlled herself, and she restored order to her class quickly, ensuring that the rest of the class continued with their matches and needles. But her eyes rarely left Harry throughout the remainder of the lesson, and he expected a summons to see the headmaster would be arriving soon

\\\/

"I heard what happened in Transfiguration!" Hermione exclaimed, joining Harry and Ron at the Slytherin table at lunchtime.

"Oh?" Harry said, concentrating on his food. He was hoping to catch up with Professor Flitwick before the end of lunch.

" _Oh?!_ " Hermione said, looking scandalised at Harry's lack of response. "Harry you transfigured a match non-verbally the first time you ever did Transfiguration," Hermione said, her voice raising in pitch. "Everyone in Ravenclaw is talking about it. They all want to know how you did it."

Harry looked up in surprise. Indeed, it seemed that half of the Ravenclaw table was watching Hermione talking to Harry with eager eyes. There was a certain covetous gleam there that irritated Harry. "I thought we talked about the theory of accidental magic on the train," Harry said.

"And it was that?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure what it is," Harry said truthfully. "And I'm not sure it's a good thing. I might be wrong, but it seems like too much power for one wand."

Every Slytherin at the table pricked their ears up at the word 'power,' and Harry shot Hermione a warning glance. Their conversation was no longer private. Hermione took the hint and changed the subject, but Harry felt speculating glares upon him all through lunch, and was glad to escape to the charms classroom.

Over the next few days, they explored aspect of magic Harry had dreamed of learning. The Slytherins were all excited to attend their first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson, but were scornful about it after experiencing just one lesson. Even Harry agreed, it was all a bit of a joke, as Quirrell seemed scared of his own shadow and never taught them anything. Although the consensus amongst the other Slytherins seemed to revolve more around complaining about the lack of Dark Arts on the curriculum, than the poor teaching.

Harry kept a close eye on Professor Quirrell throughout the lesson, but saw no suspicious signs except for the large turban, which he seemed to have no particular reason for wearing. However, Mad-Eye had taught Harry that appearances could be deceiving, and so he watched closely, looking for a slip here, or a falter there.

\\\/

Friday morning was a big day for Harry and Ron. It was the first time they managed to side-step Adrian Pucey, and walk themselves up to breakfast. In the entrance hall they even managed to catch up with Hermione and Neville, and agreed to meet in the afternoon to discuss their first week.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron, as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double potions with the Gryffindors," Ron said.

"Oh great, we'll get to see Neville."

"Yeah," Ron sighed.

"Still feeling a bit sore?" Harry asked.

"Well, yeah. I should have been on that side of the classroom."

"Don't worry mate. I've heard Snape is horrible to Gryffindors. I bet by the end of the lesson, you're glad to be a Slytherin!"

Just then, the mail arrived.

Vapour hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a folded up onto Harry's plate. Harry checked nobody was in position to read over his shoulder, and opened it.

He needn't have worried. It was blank, clearly written in Mad-Eyes personal invisible ink, which could only be unlocked by a certain code word spoken by the receiver. Deciding the contents must be delicate, Harry put it in his pocket for later.

\\\/

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Harry and Ron waved at Neville as they filed in, and took seats at desks close together. Snape started the class by taking the roll call, and he paused at Neville's name.

"Longbottom. Would you be the son of Alice Longbottom, by any chance?" He asked silkily

"Ye-yes sir," Neville stuttered.

"Your mother was incapable of brewing even the simplest potion without disastrous results. I hope you are not similarly...inept." Snape hissed.

Neville sank into his seat. Harry was furious, and had to make a quick choice. If he handled this wrong he would lose any chance of having Snape as an ally. But if he let Neville get beaten down like this, it would take that much longer to draw him out of his shell. Not to mention, a large part of him was hoping that Snape _wasn't_ innocent, just because it would be so easy to dislike the man.

"How do you know, sir?" Harry asked politely.

"What, Potter?"

"Well, sir, Alice Longbottom was a year above you in potions, and became an auror after she left school, which suggests she passed her NEWT in potions. So she can't have been that inept."

Snape glared at Harry. "Do not interrupt on matters you do not understand!"

"I apologise for interrupting sir," Harry said smoothly.

Snape didn't seem to want to penalise Slytherin, and swiftly continued the roll call. Harry sighed with relief, but noticed Neville was sitting straighter in his seat. Neville shot him a grateful glance.

Snape finished calling the names, and looked at the class. His eyes were black. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows.

"Longbottom!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Um...The Draught of Living Death sir, isn't it?" Neville stuttered.

Snape ignore him. "And tell me, pray, where I would look to find a bezoar?"

"I don't know sir."

"Tut tut, didn't open a book before you arrived?" Neville flushed, and sank down. Harry glared at Malfoy, who was openly laughing with his friends Crabbe and Goyle.

"Try again. What is the difference between Wolfsbane and Monkshood?"

"Nothing sir! They're the same plant, also known as Aconite," Neville said eagerly.

Snape glared, but didn't contradict him and seemed not to want to push the issue. Harry and Ron looked at Neville, impressed. "How did you know all that mate?" Ron whispered as the class was divided into pairs.

Neville shrugged, his round face blushing. "I love plants. My gran let's me look after the greenhouses at home, and I grow my own plants which are used in potions a lot. I'm hopeless at anything apart from that though."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

Harry remembered the information that Snape was Malfoy's godfather, and whispered this to Ron to cheer him up, explaining that he was bound to favour him. Harry and Ron's potion was also going fairly well, although some of the ingredients were new to Harry. Potion-making had also been a part of his early education, but it was more things designed to keep them safe in Wizarding Uganda - antidotes to the venom of magical snakes, and the like.

Snape was just making pointed compliments about Malfoy, when Harry caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. "No!" He said urgently to Neville. But it was too late. Clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus.

"May I take Neville, sir?" Harry interrupted. "Seamus should probably look after his cauldron, but Ron and I have finished."

Snape swept a cursory look over their potion. It seemed to satisfy him, for he sniffed and agreed.

"See you later," Harry whispered to Ron, shouldering his bag and helping Neville to his feet. "Come on Neville, mate. Let's get you sorted."

\\\/

Neville whimpered the whole way up from the dungeons, and Harry felt sympathetic. The boils were large and oozing pus, and looked distinctly painful.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Neville said miserably. "I should have known I'd be no good at it though."

"What are you talking about? You heard Snape even admit that your mum had been good at potions, and you said you love plants - potions should be a walk in the park for you."

"I guess I just can't concentrate when Snape's bearing down on me."

"Well don't worry. You heard Hermione on the train talking about lessons, and we're meeting up this afternoon. Maybe we can get some kind of study group going, work on potions before we actually have to brew them."

Neville smiled weakly. "That might help," he admitted.

"It wasn't fair of Snape to start on your mum either. That would be like him starting on me about my parents, and they're both dead."

"My parents aren't dead," Neville said unhappily.

"I'm sorry Neville, I didn't mean to suggest that."

"Its okay, its just...how did you know about my parents anyway?"

"Mad-Eye told me. We covered their history as aurors as part of my training, while we were studying Bellatrix Lestrange."

Neville flinched at the name, and Harry felt guilty. "I hate her." Neville said in a low voice, his eyes burning with intensity. "One day, I'm going to kill her."

Harry was taken aback. He hasn't expected this side of Neville to come to the surface so easily. "Well you'll have plenty of company there mate," he joked. "But if you want first dibs on Lestrange, I'm sure that can be arranged. I get Moldy Voldy though."

Neville laughed with surprise, and Harry smiled.

After Harry had left Neville in the capable hands of the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, he wandered back through the school, in no hurry to get back to potions. He explored passages he hasn't seen before, examined large tapestries and paintings, and followed a few moving staircases to see where they'd end up.

He was just engaging in conversation with a painting of an elderly man with glasses, who left a painting of a refined sitting room to follow Harry through several hallways - when he bumped into two more people who were clearly avoiding lessons.

The Weasley twins looked up guiltily as he approached, stuffing several suspicious looking vials and an old piece of parchment into their pockets.

"Oh hello Harry, my fine fellow!" Said one. "Fancy meeting you here in this splendid hallway in the middle of the day. Not skipping lessons are you? Naughty naughty."

It was the most Harry had ever heard one of them say at once, and he laughed. "Nope, just been escorting one of your fellow Gryffindors up to the hospital after a potions accident," he told them. "But what are _you_ two doing here? I don't believe for one minute it's innocent."

"Well you see Harrikins-"

"There we were, sitting in History of Magic-"

"Paying close attention-"

"Taking careful notes-"

"Studying hard like the excellent students we are-"

"When it came to our attention that we've been at school for almost a whole week."

"Not one prank."

"Not a single joke."

"A tragic state of affairs."

"So let me guess," Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes. "You both suddenly came over weak and faint, but miraculously recovered once you left the room."

"Harrikins you must be a mind-reader."

"And so we decided to celebrate our recovery with a little school joke."

"Do I get to find out what it is?" Harry sighed.

"Oh no Harrikins."

"That would ruin the surprise"

"Just don't drink the pumpkin juice at breakfast next Monday."

"Never know what might be in pumpkin juice."

"Not with the house elves so lovely and accommodating anyway."

"But do let Ron."

"Could be funny."

"Very funny."

Just then, Mrs Norris stalked around the corner and paused, hissing at the sight of them.

"Better run Harrikins," the twins chorused. "Filch is on his way!"

\\\/

After lessons, finished, Harry and Ron met up with Hermione and Neville outside by the lake. There was an old willow tree, and they sat under its branches and gazed out across the water.

Hermione was full of the lessons, and the exciting things she had learnt that week. She also couldn't stop talking about the Hogwarts library, and all the different books. It seemed that being in Ravenclaw meant that evenings were for studying, nights were for discussing the things you had learnt, and mealtimes were for reviewing lessons.

"When do you relax?" Harry asked pointedly.

Hermione blushed. "Sometimes I read just for fun," she said.

"Doesn't count!" Harry joked. "You need a hobby."

"Gran says that learning is wonderful to exercise the mind, but you need to look after the body, heart and soul too," Neville joined in, looking embarrassed.

Hermione looked unhappy. "There's just so much to learn before exams!" She wailed.

"Hermione," Harry said seriously. "You need to relax. I'm not criticising your house, but I do think that Ravenclaw are taking on a little too much. It's important that we study hard, but other things are important too."

"Why don't we have an evening off every week?" Ron suggested hopefully. "Do something fun."

Hermione looked panicky. "But-" she began.

"I know," Harry interrupted. "Why don't we do a bit of spell practice? Work on what we learnt during the week, and apply it in fun ways. Like a practical review."

Hermione seemed much more able to get her head around this, and nodded. "Here, by the lake if it's sunny?" She asked.

Harry nodded. "Every Friday then, its settled."

\\\/

Later that evening, back in the Slytherin dormitory, Harry finally had a chance to read his letter from Mad-Eye and Kingsley.

"Constant Vigilance" he whispered to the paper, and watched as inky words spread across.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I was pleased to hear about the allies you have identified so far. Naturally the news about the Malfoy boy is disappointing, but not wholly unexpected. Old Malfoy senior tried to kick up a fuss at the ministry about that punch you threw, but they laughed him out. I believe Amelia Bones has asked her niece Susan Bones to keep an eye on you however, so I would suggest you make an attempt in that direction. I don't need to tell you how useful it would be to have Madam Bones in our corner._

 _Congratulations on being sorted into Slytherin. This is a perfect opportunity to study Severus Snape, the end goal being discovering whether or not he is on our side, and ensuring loyalty if he is. Naturally we are mistrustful of him, given his history, and so keeping a close eye out would help. Don't pass up an opportunity to have a look in his office if you get the chance, but don't take any risks. To give you a greater insight into his character, I have arranged for an old schoolfellow of his to visit over Christmas, and give you an idea of his history and character. Remus Lupin is also excellent at defense, and will be working with you in that direction. If you have any friends you wish to accompany you, that may be arranged once they have been background checked._

 _Hermione Granger appears to be exactly what she claims to be - a muggleborn witch. I can find no evidence that she is anything other than that. Both her parents are dentists (muggle healers who work inside the mouth) and she has no siblings. Transcripts from her muggle primary school suggest she was studious, but lonely and had trouble making friends. If she has been sorted into Ravenclaw, this pattern may very well continue - see if you can intervene._

 _I see that as of your last letter, Dumbledore has not yet made any moves to discover where you have been for the past ten years. We shall expect it soon, and eagerly look forward to hearing any developments in this regard._

 _Sanna is well, but eagerly awaits next year when she intends to attend school with you. Our parselmouth friend has been translating for me this week, as Sanna does not take kindly to not being able to express herself._

 _Keep safe,_

 _Kingsley_

 _Mad-Eye_

Harry smiled as he rolled up the letter again, and put it aside. Kingsley must have written it, because there were no hidden curses, no strange allusions, it was written in a fairly straightforward manner, and didn't descend into excessive insulting of Severus Snape, as Mad-Eye had a tendency to do.

Suddenly the letter burst into flames. Harry jumped, then pulled out his wand and waved it without thinking. A jet of water sprayed out of the end, and doused not only the letter, but also his whole bed and bedside drawers. Harry sighed. He was going to have to ask research this accidental magic, because as far as he knew, it shouldn't have worked like this.

Very few Ugandan wizarding children ever had to opportunity to attend a proper school of magic, and so there was no precedent for this. A wand was supposed to give his spellcasting direction and make it stronger - but this seemed off the scale. Harry figured he'd ask Kingsley in his next letter, and decided to get an early night.

It was as well he did, because the next morning would bring his first sign that Dumbledore hadn't ignored his overtures.

\\\/

 **Thanks for all the input, very nice to hear. Thank you for reading,**

 **-Cas**


	5. Fluffy

**Chapter Five**

 **Disclaimer: Not JKR, but if I was I reckon I'd write fanfiction just for a laugh, to get all the reviews saying "wow you're just as good as JKR!" Then reveal the truth in the last chapte** r.

\\\/

Ron Weasley was not the only person to notice that there was something strange about Harry Potter, but as his Slytherin counterpart, he was in the best position to observe. Harry Potter was odd. He didn't act like an eleven year old - always dashing off to spend time with Professor Flitwick, a _teacher_ for Merlin's sake, or studying in the library with Hermione and Neville. In Transfiguration he still performed every task non-verbally, and Professor McGonagall had taken to simply awarding him full marks at the end of each lesson.

The most curious thing was that Harry didn't seem to care particularly. He never flaunted his unusual status, he simply acted as though it were natural for a student to be interested in spending extra time studying, and hanging out with professors. Then there was that business with Neville on the train. Harry seemed have taken the other boy under his wing somewhat. In lessons they shared such as potions, Harry was always watching to make sure Neville was okay. Oh he might have tried to be subtle about it, but Ron had five older knew what a protective eye looked like. Harry never stopped glancing towards Neville's cauldron to check he wasn't about to blow it up, and every time Snape approached the round-faced boy, Harry grasped his wand tightly under the desk.

Ron might have been jealous of the special attention paid to Neville if it hadn't been clear the boy needed it. Neville was still jumpy and any, prone to clumsiness and accidents. Harry never got frustrated the way Hermione sometimes did, when Neville couldn't quite grasp a concept after a few days spent on it. As the term progressed though, those times were getting fewer and far between, as their extra study sessions meant they rocketed ahead in lessons.

Ron thought his mother would probably have a heart attack when she read his first Hogwarts report. Sometimes Ron felt as though he was being strong-armed into producing results to rival Percy's first year grades. Much as Ron disliked studying, he enjoyed the feeling of being ahead of most of his classmates, and so submitted to Harry and Hermione with good grace. Usually.

\\\/

Harry had noticed the way Ron watched him of course. Far from being perturbed, it rather pleased him to think that the other boy was so observant. As the only two Slytherins in their group it was inevitable that they ended up spending a great deal of time together. That was fine with Harry. Ron was generally good natured, and Harry had the feeling they might have been friends even if he hadn't been deliberately guided to approach the Weasleys.

Not everybody received such a warm opinion from Harry though. In spite of his attempts to remain aloof from petty emotions such as dislike, by the end of the first few weeks Harry didn't think he had ever hated anyone as much as he hated Draco Malfoy.

Although the blond boy had avoided Harry and Ron since the first night, that didn't stop them sharing a dormitory. Luckily for them, Malfoy usually came in to bed late at night after sitting in the common room with the older slytherins playing chess, and left first thing in the morning. Harry suspected Malfoy didn't want to find himself alone with Harry, as he never hesitated to mouth insults during lessons.

Still, Harry hadn't considered the full ramifications of sharing _every_ lesson with his housemates, until they found a note pinned up in the Slytherin common room. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together. Harry and Ron were pleased to be sharing sessions with Neville, but unhappy about learning alongside Malfoy.

"Typical," said Harry flippantly. "Just what I always wanted. The bloody albino to watch me fly for the first time."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. Coming from a country where broomsticks were banned, it was the one thing entirely new to him.

"You know he!won't be paying attention," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Blaise Zabini told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt it was a shame. Neville was so clumsy and accident-prone, taking part in a sport might have helped his coordination. He resolved to stick close to Neville.

Hermione would be learning with Ravenclaw on Friday, and she sat with them Thursday breakfast and regaled them with flying tips she had found in a library book. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh…"

His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something…"

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy leaned across the table, and snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry jumped to his feet, just looking for a chance to nail Malfoy again, but before he had a chance a hand came down upon his shoulder. Professor Snape towered over them, glaring.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

Snape glared, then turned to Harry. "The headmaster would like to see you in his office _directly_ after lunch, Potter."

"Yes sir!" Harry smiled widely. This was just what he had been waiting for.

"What does Dumbledore want with you?" Daphne Greengrass asked, leaning across the table.

Harry shrugged, playing dumb. "No idea."

\\\/

Harry arrived at Dumbledore's office slightly early, hoping to catch the man off guard. Mad-Eye's warnings were ringing in his ears, but he was fairly confident he could take whatever the man threw at him. This was supposed to be more of a big revelation than a conflict, although he couldn't guarantee that one wouldn't turn into the other.

He could hear the murmur of voices as he reached the top of the steps, and paused to listen. The voices were too quiet however, and he was left wishing he had brought Sanna with him. She had uncommonly sharp hearing for a snake, and nobody ever realised the hissing was her relaying information to him. He thought, as he did frequently, that Kingsley had been rather short sighted when he didn't allow Harry to bring her, even if it had been against the rules.

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore said suddenly, raising his voice, and the other voices all paused.

"Omniscient bastard," Harry muttered, and could have sworn he heard a chuckle.

Entering the office, he saw it was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat - the Sorting Hat.

Dumbledore sat behind the desk, smiling benignly. Flanking him were Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall, both looking very stern.

"Ah, good evening Harry!" Dumbledore said. "I'm sorry to invite you in the middle of your schooling, but I'm afraid a headmaster has a _very_ busy schedule, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, even busier ones."

"Its not a problem sir, I quite understand." Harry said politely.

"Excellent, excellent." Dumbledore clasped his hands together, and leaned forwards, looking at Harry over half moon spectacles. "Now Harry, i'm sure you're wondering why I called you here."

"No sir."

Harry seemed to have taken Dumbledore by surprise. "You're _not_ wondering why you're here?"

"Not at all sir."

"I see. In that case Harry, perhaps you could tell us why you believe you are here." Behind Dumbledore, both Snape and McGonagall were looking irritated.

Harry smiled calmly at Dumbledore. "I believe, professor, that you received reports from both Professors about my upbringing, and have come to demand the truth from me.

"I understand that when professor McGonagall reported to you that I claimed to have been raised in Wizarding Uganda, that you must have been very surprised. After all, in your infinite wisdom, you yourself placed me with Vernon and Petunia Dursley in 1981. I imagine that your next step was to then visit the Dursley home, and question them on whether or not this is true. Am I right so far?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Very good indeed," he said. "Absolutely correct. And I'm sure you also know what your aunt and uncle told me?"

Harry's smile turned cold. "Firstly professor, they are no family of mine and I would prefer it if you didn't refer to them as such. Secondly, they would have informed you that I lived with them - as they would have told you, should you have visited them at any point in the previous ten years, which no doubt you did."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but neither confirmed nor denied.

"However professors, it is now my duty to tell you that this was a lie. I have not resided with the Dursleys since shortly after my parents death."

"Lies!" Snape hissed. "You were there, I checked myself!"

Dumbledore was frowning now. "Harry I understand how, when one is young, it can become tempting to make up little stories to make oneself seem more interesting, and quite understandable. But I assure you, we did check on you, and there is no point continuing this tale.."

"Did you ever actually _see_ me, professors?"

"Well, no. But your aunt and uncle were most convincing, and would have no reason to lie-"

"By that, do you mean it's impossible to lie when someone is _poking about in your head_ sir?"

Dumbledore and Snape both fell silent, looking as though Harry had slapped them.

"Oh yes," said Harry, warming up. He'd been looking forward to this conversation for years. "Yes we know all about your little mind forays. The Dursleys were implanted with false memories every few months, designed to convince anyone who examined their minds, that I was still there."

Dumbledore seemed speechless. Snape however, was not. "Impossible!" He hissed. "I can tell when a memory is false, you stupid boy!"

"Only if it has been poorly implanted," Harry countered calmly. "And I assure you, the memories were planted by an expert occlumens and legilimens."

"And who," sneered Snape, "is this _expert_ you claim planted the memories."

"Most recently, me."

Harry took the opportunity to sit down in the chair across from Dumbledore's desk, and watch the reactions. The paintings of old headmasters and headmistresses along the walls were muttering with disapproval. Professor McGonagall was not speaking, but her lips had compressed to a thin line.

"Preposterous!" Snape spluttered, glaring at Harry. "An eleven year old boy is certainly _not_ a master occlumens, even if he has read a few books and suddenly thinks himself an expert."

"Try and break into my mind," Harry challenged. "Go on."

"That's illegal," Professor McGonagall interrupted.

Harry shrugged. "Not if I give him permission."

Harry suddenly felt himself almost pinned to the chair by the wave of mental energy that hit him. It was the strongest he'd ever felt, and if he had been standing he was sure he would have staggered. Looking up, he met Snape's eyes and flinched as a second wave hit. Then he straightened his back and looked back at Snape, determined. Harry concentrated on making his mind slippery and hard to grasp, like a ball of obsidian.

He was rewarded with a frown, and a line appeared down Snape's forehead. The pressure increased, and he felt the tendrils of Snape's mind probing at his, searching for a weakness. Harry let Snape continue for a moment, and then pushed back with all the strength he possessed. Snape reeled backwards and the pressure against his mind collapsed.

Snape was blinking furiously at Harry, but didn't try again. "Well?" Professor McGonagall snapped.

"He is...correct. I cannot bypass his mind," Snape said, sounding resigned.

"Cultural differences,* Harry explained. "In Wizarding Uganda, parents read their children's minds frequently to check for lying and misbehaviour. It's a normal and accepted practice. Consequently, we all learn to block our minds as early as possible, assisted by older children. I could keep Kingsley out of my mind when I was five years old. Mad-Eye took a few more years though."

Dumbledore seemed shocked, and Harry wondered how unusual that sensation was for the old wizard.

"I planted false memories in the Dursleys," Harry continued as though nothing had happened. "In reality, I was raised by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody, in Wizarding Uganda. Kingsley had family there, and I was raised in his native community. "

"How," whispered Professor McGonagall, looking as though she had never seen Harry before.

"It's not the 'how' that's important, Professor. It's the 'why'. You see, as soon as I was old enough to understand, I was informed that I would one day be expected to defeat Tom Riddle, a wizard who is certainly not dead. And I had to question why I would be left in a _muggle house_ for ten years. Did you want me killed straight away?"

Dumbledore looked lost for words. "You deserved a normal childhood..." He said desperately.

"I _had_ a normal childhood," Harry countered. "But it was in an environment that prepared me for what was to come."

Silence fell in the small room for a moment. Snape looked murderous, and McGonagall disapproving. Eventually Dumbledore spoke:

"I will need to speak to Alastor as soon as possible, to find out how this fiasco came to be."

"Oh absolutely. He's quite keen to meet with you soon too," Harry said. "Oh but before I forget, he has a few things he would like you to answer when this meeting takes place."

Harry made a show of searching his pockets, and then pulled out and handed Dumbledore a piece of parchment. On it, there was a list of questions.

 _For the perusal of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 _1) Why was Harry not released to the custody of Sirius Black on the night of Halloween 1981? Sirius Black was his godfather and therefore should have been contacted immediately, according to the Wizarding Custody Law clause 8 section 2 which states that magically binding godparents take precedence over relatives._

 _2) How do you intend to ensure Harry can begin defence training at Hogwarts in preparation for the trials ahead of him?_

 _3) When do you intend to look into the absence of trial for Sirius Black, and why have you not done so before now?_

 _4) What is your evidence that Severus Snape is not a death eater?_

 _5) Why did Lord Voldemort target Harry Potter?_

 _6) Why was Lord Voldemort unable to kill Harry Potter?_

 _7) What is the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries labeled:_

 _S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D  
Dark Lord  
and (?) Harry Potter_

Professor Dumbledore went absolutely white as he read the parchment. "How did you-" he choked.

"I didn't write the questions Professor," Harry demurred. "However, Mad-Eye is very keen to get to the bottom of them. Can you help?"

Dumbledore very deliberately turned to the fire beside him, and tossed the parchment in. "That kind of sensitive information cannot be released to parties who have proved untrustworthy," he said. "And now is not the right time for you to learn it. I am horrified that Alastor saw fit to share it with one so young, and wish to know how he even came to hear of such a thing."

"Is that your final answer?" Harry asked calmly.

"It is Harry," Dumbledore said, sounding relieved that Harry wasn't making more of a fuss.

"Very well," Harry sighed. "May I be excused please Sir? I have some letters to send before flying class."

"Yes, yes" Dumbledore said distractedly. "But this will need discussing again, as will your urgent return to your aunt and uncle."

Harry suppressed a smile. He couldn't wait until Mad-Eye got his meeting.

\\\/

Harry sped down the corridors, and caught up with the rest of the Slytherins just as they were passing the entrance hall. They hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

"How was the meeting?" Ron asked Harry in an undertone.

"Oh yes, fine," Harry said. "I think it covered the basics, anyway."

The Gryffindors were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Ron said that Fred and George always complained about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Ron got it on his second try, but Neville's merely rolled over. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back boy," shouted Madam Hooch.

"Neville!" Harry shouted. Neville didn't seem to know how to get down. Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —

Harry yanked out his wand and pointed it directly at Neville. Neville's free fall was abruptly halted when came to a stop in midair as though jerked by an invisible puppeteer. The class looked around in amazement when they saw Harry with his wand out. Suddenly something shoved Harry very hard in the back. He stumbled forwards, and the connection was broken. Neville stumbled to the ground with a nasty crack, and lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. Harry picked himself up from the ground to see Malfoy smirking triumphantly at him. Furious, Harry and Ron ran to Neville. His face was streaked with tears, and he looked humiliated. Madam Hooch was checking him carefully.

"Broken leg," Harry heard her mutter. "It's alright boy, hospital wing."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

Madam Hooch carefully levitated Neville off his broken leg, and they made their way slowly to the castle. Harry and Ron wanted to accompany them, but thought Neville would probably be even more embarrassed. Harry was furious with himself. After all his determination to stay close to Neville...

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"What was that Malfoy?" Harry said through gritted teeth, a warning in his voice. Crabbe and Goyle had been guffawing, but subsided at Harry's tone. Harry walked very deliberately towards Malfoy, and looked him dead in the eye. "Did you want to repeat that?"

Malfoy looked around, and seemed to think his peers were a safety net. "Surprised the broom could even lift off under his weight," he sneered

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil, a Gryffindor girl.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find — how about — up a tree?"

And with that, he leapt on his broom and took off. He hadn't been lying, he _could_ fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

The Gryffindors stared in astonishment as Harry grabbed his broom. The concept of a Slytherin standing up for a Gryffindor seemed foreign to them.

Harry grabbed his broom. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him — and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught — this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Don't make me knock you right off that broom" Harry hissed, just loudly enough for Malfoy to hear. "I don't even need to touch you. I can do it from right here... _Remember?"_

Malfoy's nerve seemed to fail him, and he paled. Glancing at the ground, he suddenly threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked  
back toward the ground.

Harry exerted his will, and a few moment before he reached the ground Malfoy grabbed was grabbed by what seemed like an invisible force, flung from his broom, and hit the ground with a thud. A moment later, the remembrall paused in mid air, and hovered for a moment before slowly lowering onto the grass. Ron grabbed it quickly, as Harry headed for the ground.

Malfoy lay groaning in the grass, clutching his wrist.

"Oh dear," Harry said, with mock sympathy, gliding to land beside the Slytherins. "Looks like a broken wrist. Got to be careful on these brooms eh Malfoy?"

"It was you!" Malfoy sobbed, struggling to sit up.

"Me?" Harry said innocently. "I didn't even have my wand out."

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank. Professor McGonagall was running toward them.

"Never — in all my time at Hogwarts —"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "— how dare you — might have broken your neck —"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil —"

"But Malfoy —"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, ten points from Slytherin and a week's detention with your head of house. Never have I seen such a blatant disregard for school rules! I will inform Professor Snape immediately. "

She caught sight of Malfoy on the ground. _"And_ you Mr Malfoy. I will escort you to the hospital wing on the way, but rest assured you will hear of this later."

\\\/

"That was completely unfair," Ron complained at dinner.

"I know," Harry sighed. "But think about how horrible Snape is to Gryffindor. I suppose we couldn't expect McGonagall not to favour Gryffindor."

"Still," sniffed Daphne Greengrass, who was sitting near them. "It wasn't like you _made_ Malfoy fall off his broom."

Harry and Ron exchanged a quick silent look, which Daphne unfortunately caught before they managed to school their features. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but she said nothing.

Leaning across Ron to help himself to some potatoes, Harry tried to cover for the gaffe. "Any word on Neville and Malfoy?" He asked casually.

"Nope, nothing," Ron said. "D'you want to check on Neville later? We should bring back his remembrall, that should cheer him up if he's stuck in the hospital wing with Malfoy."

Pansy Parkinson glared at Ron at that comment, and muttered something about a lack of house loyalty.

"House loyalty?" Harry said, raising his voice and directing it at her. "That arrogant prick attacked us on the train before we had even been sorted, called Ron trash, another girl a mudblood, and threatened to attack us. I think I'll be loyal to the people who are on my side in a fight, not who an old hat tells me I should be loyal to."

The older Slytherins looked mutinous, but the first years seemed thoughtful, all except Pansy who sniffed, and left the table with a comment about visiting Malfoy.

"I've got detention with Snape after dinner anyway," Harry said to Ron. "So if we visit Neville afterwards, Parkinson should be long gone."

As dinner disappeared from the plates, Harry saw a newspaper that had been obscured by the dishes. "Is this yours?" He asked Daphne, who nodded. "Mind if I take a look?

She nodded again, and he scanned the headlines.

 _GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

 _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

 __" _But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harry frowned, surprised he hadn't heard anything from Kingsley or Mad-Eye about a break in, especially if they thought it was by dark wizards. Mad-Eye should be leading the charge on that one, and he resolved to ask him about it.

\\\/

After dinner, Harry departed for his detention with Professor Snape, while Ron left for the Slytherin common room.

He knocked on the potions classroom door with mild trepidation.

"Enter."

Snape was sitting at his desk, marking what looked like essays. He looked up with a frown as Harry entered the room.

"Professor Snape." Harry said respectfully.

"Potter. I was... _displeased_ to hear of your escapade this afternoon," Snape glared. "Did you pay any attention at all to my speech on your first night? Breaking rules and attacking fellow Slytherins is against the code of our house, and unacceptable."

"Sir with all due respect, I didn't attack Malfoy," Harry defended. "He stole property of a friend of mine, and was the first to break the rules and fly."

"Potter I don't care who flew first. It is not behavior befitting a member of Slytherin house, and I expect better."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Professor McGonagall saw fit to assign you detentions for a week. Tonight you will be writing lines, however for the remainder of detentions I will expect you to apply yourself to your potions homework, so as my time and your time is not _entirely_ wasted."

"Yes sir," Harry replied.

"Good. Get on with it - _I must not break rules and disgrace Slytherin house."_

 _\\\/_

"Lines isn't bad," Ron commented as they made their way up to the hospital wing. Hermione was with them, having collared Ron after dinner and demanded to know what had happened. "Fred and George reckon Snape tortures students."

"So they're speaking to you again?" Harry asked, amused.

"Yeah they've decide I'm their 'inside man for Slytherin house' and are already planning ways to prank the Slytherins." Ron rolled his eyes. Harry was reminded of their meeting in the hallway the previous day, and made a note to remember the twins warning.

"What about Percy?"

"Nah - I'm still a disgrace to the name of Weasley."

"And your parents?"

"Mum wrote to me the other day. Said it doesn't matter what house I'm sorted into, and that Percy is just disappointed he won't be able to oversee me, as prefect for Gryffindor."

"In that case, I think you're lucky you were sorted into Slytherin," Harry deadpanned. Ron snorted.

"Probably."

"I think it's ridiculous," Hermione said mutinously. "People thinking that it matters. It's like the blood purity thing - who cares? It doesn't change who you are."

They eventually reached the hospital wing, after having asked instructions several times from the portraits. They had just started to wonder if the portrait's were playing a prolonged joke on the Slytherin firsties, when the double doors finally came in sight.

Neville was sitting up in the bed closest to the door when they arrived, and waved enthusiastically at them. His legs both looked normal again.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!"

"Hey Neville," They chorused. Ron held up the remembrall to show Neville triumphantly, and set it down on his bedside table.

"Look what the cat dragged in," they heard Malfoy say spitefully, and turned to see him on the other side of the hospital wing, his wrist wrapped in bandages.

"Why are you still bandaged up and Neville isn't?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Oh mine was a much more serious break, coming from a curse like that," Malfoy said smugly.

" _Bullshit,"_ Neville coughed under his breath.

Harry was pleased to see that the ordeal didn't seem to have affected Neville too badly. Colour had returned to his face and he didn't seem any the worse for wear after spending an evening with Malfoy. In fact he was sitting up straighter, and seemed happier. Harry wondered what had transpired, but didn't really expect to find out.

Suddenly a door to the side of the infirmary opened, and a round little witch bustled in. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict. She frowned at Harry and the others, as though wondering how they had entered without her knowledge.

"Mr Longbottom you're free to leave, if your friends will escort you back to the Gryffindor tower?" She said doubtfully, glancing at their house colours and seeming surprised that they were there to visit Neville, and not Malfoy.

"And then perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany Mr Malfoy back to Slytherin," she continued.

Ron groaned.

"I can see myself Madam Pomfrey," Malfoy interjected.

"Very well," she allowed.

"C'mon Neville," Ron said cheerfully. "I might even get to see Fred and George again."

But they encountered problems long before they reached Gryffindor tower. As they were walking up a staircase, it suddenly changed direction and moved over to another part of the castle entirely. They all looked up, startled, at their new direction.

"Where are we?" Asked Hermione in a small voice.

"I don't know," Harry said uneasily, but they followed the staircase up to the top.

They found themselves wandering down a long corridor with several doors off the sides. "I think we're in the charms corridor," Hermione whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Harry asked, amused.

"I don't know, it's just so quiet...I think we've missed curfew as well."

"Shit," Ron swore. "Snape monitors that. We're dead."

"I think I can find my own way back from here," Neville said uncertainly. But before they could answer, they heard a _meow_ , and looked to see Mrs Norris stalking towards them. She had a nasty gleam in her eye for a cat, and Harry swore she was sneering at them. Then they heard the shuffling of feet from around a corner.

"What is it, my sweet," they heard a voice muttering. "Have you found some students for me?"

"Filch," Ron mouthed looking terrified. They met each others eyes, and silently agreed to make a break for it. But as they dashed back down the corridor towards the staircase, they saw with horror that it was no longer there. The staircase had gone to visit a different part of the castle again, and the landing gaped emptily into space.

They could hear wheezing and footsteps behind them, and they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door — and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open — they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay — get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's robe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around — and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked right back into Wizarding Uganda

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

"Sing," Harry hissed frantically.

"Are - you - _crazy,"_ Rom gasped.

Hermione though, broke into a wavering treble. The Cerberus calmed immediately, nodding its heads sleepily to the tune. Neville joined in after a moment with a surprisingly tuneful voice, and the dog sank back down, its heads drifting into sleep.

"Don't stop," Harry warned as he walked closer to the dog. Ron moaned. Harry knelt down, and tugged one of the massive paws sideways, to reveal a wooden trapdoor set into the floor.

"Don't open it!" Ron gasped.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Never enter a potentially dangerous situation unprepared. Come on, Filch should be gone by now. Let's go."

They left cautiously, Neville humming until the door was safely shut behind them - before turning to Harry.

"What the _hell_ was that."

"It was a Cerberus," Hermione quavered. She sounded on the verge of tears.

"I take it you've read about them?" Harry asked. When she nodded, he continued. "A neighbour of ours had a Cerberus puppy as a guard dog back in Wizarding Uganda. The same rules applied - music instantly made it sleepy. We used to bait it as kids, then start singing at the last possible moment. That's the biggest one I've ever seen though."

Neville looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"I just want to know what it's guarding," Harry muttered.

"Well we're not likely to find out if we get caught out of bed after all that," Hermione said tartly.

They were all forced to agree, and separated, making their individual way back to their houses.

"Bloody mental," Ron muttered to Harry. "I suddenly feel very fond of Scabbers."

\\\/

 **I've never written an HP fanfic before. To be perfectly honest, I've deliberately avoided it because you guys scare the** _ **shit**_ **outta me. When I edit every chapter I hit google, trying to iron out all of the canon errors, and I like to think I know the story pretty well. But you hardcore fans are on a whole different level. I swear to God some of you could probably tell me where every single character in the books was at any time on any date in a twenty year period.**

 **Every time I get a review correcting something, I'm a bit like,** _ **really?! How can anyone know that much?**_

 **Impressive. Very impressive.**

 **Thanks for reading**

 **-Cas**


	6. Halloween

Chapter Six

Disclaimer: * _Looks in mirror*_ Still not JKR. * _Checks bank account*_ Definitely not JKR.

\\\/

By the next morning, Ron seemed to have decided that their escapade had been quite the adventure, and in fact was quite keen to have another one. Malfoy on the other hand, sat at the Slytherin table scowling, wrapped in bandages, and telling anyone who would listen (which was just Pansy) how he had owled his father, and expected that Harry would be expelled for injuring him.

Neville looked a bit shaky at breakfast, but Hermione seemed to have recovered from her fright, and slipped over the the Slytherin table just long enough to confirm they would be meeting that afternoon for their Friday spell session, and to tell them she had been doing research before breakfast on Cerberus' in the private Ravenclaw library.

They wished her luck in her first flying lesson that morning, and she paled. "How could I have forgotten!"

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her. "It seems to be all about confidence. But do try your best - flying is a useful skill, you never know when you'll need it."

Hermione nodded, and departed looking determined.

They were about to leave for the first lesson of the day, when Vapour swooped down to land in front of Harry, preening her feathers and offering a note. She hadn't brought a response from Mad-Eye or Kingsley about the incident with Dumbledore yet, and Harry assumed that was what it was. But the note was written in an untidy scrawl he had never seen before.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _You won't remember me, but I was friends with your parents before they died, and it was me who took you out of the house that night it all happened. I just wondered if you fancied hearing a bit about them, and I've got some old pictures you might like._

 _I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? Bring anyone you like._

 _Hagrid._

Harry passed the note to Ron, and he shrugged. "Why not?"

"Only problem is...Hagrid was the one who took me away from my aunt and uncle, but I think Mad-Eye obliviated him," Harry said guiltily.

"Obliviate?"

"It's a spell to remove someone's memories," Harry clarified. "But they can lose potency with age."

"You reckon he remembers anything?"

"Well there's only one way to find out...we'll have to tell Hermione and Neville at lunch. We can always practice spells afterwards."

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _Yes, please, will bring a few friends, see you later_ on the back of the note, and sent Vapour off again.

\\\/

Hermione was excited to meet Hagrid, although for different reasons than Harry.

"I mean, _Obliviate_ is such a complex spell in the first place, and there was that article in _Controversial Charms and Defensive Magic_ that speculated the similarities victims of _Obliviate_ bear to amnesiac's, and how every spell is different and can be altered or changed by different stimuli presented to the subject-" Hermione babbled.

"Well he's already seen me, so that's not going to trigger a sudden flashback," Harry replied, laughing at her enthusiasm.

Neville looked bemused. "Why did Mad-Eye obliviate him in the first place?"

"Well apparently Hagrid is a great guy, but his biggest fault is that he's so loyal to Dumbledore that he won't ever question his motives or actions. Kingsley and Mad-Eye do _want_ everyone to find out where I grew up - but not before I got to Hogwarts - otherwise I could have been taken away, since technically they kidnapped me."

"Why do they want everyone to know?" Asked Hermione, confused. "If this is all training to defeat you-know-who when he comes back, then shouldn't you be a little more secretive?"

"Yes and no," Harry answered.

"Trust me when I say there are some things I absolutely can't tell you, and can't let anyone else find out. A few hidden daggers, so to speak. But for the main part, it's important that I'm open about what I'm here for. In the last war, there was so much devastation that most wizarding families were too scared to openly get involved, and our side nearly lost because of it. When Voldemort comes back, people need to be ready for him, and they need to believe it's worth fighting for. I can't wait until it happens, I have to prepare beforehand."

"Dad said numbers were the main reason we nearly lost the last war," Ron agreed.

"So this is only going to get louder," Harry smirked.

\\\/

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks.

Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang —back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Its nice teh meet yeh at last" Hagrid said.

"Likewise," Harry smiled.

Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"Let me have a look at yeh then," Hagrid said fondly, patting Harry on the shoulder. Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

'When I saw you on the platform, I didn't realise you had known my parents " Harry said.

"Ah I woulda introduced m'self then, but teh tell yeh the truth I didn' recognise yeh with tha' hair," Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh mum woulda had summat to say 'bout it, lemme tell yeh."

Harry was hit with a wave of unexpected, bittersweet sadness. "Really? She wouldn't have liked it?"

Hagrid noticed his expression. "Ah but every kid does it, can't do what yeh parents say all the time," he said clapping Harry on the back. "Sit down, all of yeh."

"This is Ron, Hermione and Neville," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but they all pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git," although Hermione looked scandalised.

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it."

After they'd finished their first cup of tea, Hagrid pulled something from a cupboard behind his head. It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book, which he handed to Harry.

Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos when I knew yeh'd be coming to Hogwarts… knew yeh didn' have any with the muggles… d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood. Hermione tactfully engaged Hagrid in conversation with Ron and Neville, asking about the sorts of creatures that could be found in the forest.

Harry flipped through the pages slowly. He had never seen any pictures of his parents, except an old picture depicting the last gathering of the Order of The Phoenix that Mad-Eye had kept hold of. But this...

His parents as teenagers, their wedding day, holding baby Harry...it was all there. They seemed so young, and so happy. Harry's heart twisted. They had no idea that their time was ticking slowly away, running out. They had no idea that the man they considered their best friend would betray them, or that they were living through their last few years of life.

A determination like nothing Harry had ever felt before swept through him, and he felt as though his magical core had turned to steel. No one else, not _one more person_ should have to face that. Nobody else should have to only see their parents through an old photo album.

Glancing up at his friends, he noticed Neville's smile seemed rather forced, and reminded himself that Tom Riddle had cost the other boy just as much as Harry. Looking at the round faced chubby boy, Harry had a suspicion that in the fight ahead and the years to come, Neville Longbottom would become a force to be reckoned with. Like Harry, he had unparalleled motivation.

As Harry and the others walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Did Hagrid remember anything? How had he known Harry wouldn't have any pictures? And why had Mad-Eye obliviated Hagrid in the first place? Harry had been touched by the big man's gesture, and wished he had been given the opportunity to meet him years earlier.

\\\/

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with visiting Hagrid, spending time with his friends from other houses and conducting subtle research for Mad-Eye on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. It was not the hot baking country of his childhood, and at times he had wondered if he would ever get used to the cold. But by the end of October, the castle felt like home. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Scabbers zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Blaise Zabini (which was a relief, because Daphne had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Pansy Parkinson. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Pansy was angrier about this.

She fumed under her breath, shot them both dirty looks, and glared at Professor Flitwick.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too — never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Harry was wary of causing a scene like in the transfiguration classroom, but the unfortunate truth was that every time he attempted magic with his wand, it was so strong it usually did far more than it was supposed to. He couldn't wait to get home and ask Kingsley about it, as it was making lessons difficult.

Seeing how wary Blaise looked, Harry made a split second decision to ignore his wand. He waved his hand over the feather, and imagined it lifting into the air.

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Mr Potter's done it!"

Blaise gave Harry a long, hard look,but didn't say anything. Nobody else seemed to have noticed that Harry didn't have a wand in his hand, except Ron who gave him the thumbs up. Harry was just relieved to get through a lesson without incident, and decided to continue avoiding his wand as much as possible until Christmas.

Harry could hear Pansy Parkinson berating Ron for using his wand incorrectly, and talking loudly about how much better a job Malfoy could have done, shooting longing looks in Malfoy's direction. Harry also thought he heard the word 'blood-traitor' somewhere in there.

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "even the other slytherins don't like her, she's a stuck-up pureblood bitch with no talent, looking for a husband at eleven because she's got no other ambition."

"I don't think even Malfoy really likes her," Harry commented. "Have you noticed he's started avoiding her?"

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Pansy. Harry caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard us."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

"Ah who cares, maybe it'll knock a bit of sense into her."

\\\/

Pansy didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon to their great delight. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron met up with Neville and Hermione. They were surprised to hear that Hermione had found Pansy crying in the girls bathroom, wanting to be left alone.

"Is that all she said?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Well the word 'mudblood' might have come into it somewhere," Hermione admitted.

A moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Pansy out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Pucey was in his element.

"Slytherin first years, form an orderly line and follow me. There will be _no_ shouting, noise or sneaking off. Did you hear me? I meant immediately!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they descended the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully. "But the first thing Mad-Eye ever taught me - apart from constant vigilance - is that nothing is a coincidence."

As they descended further into the dungeons, they suddenly passed Professor Snape who was moving fast in the opposite direction.

"Wonder where he's going," Ron muttered.

"I don't know," Harry said thoughtfully. "But it could be important. Cover for me?"

And with that, he slipped away from the first years and down a passage after Snape. Moving quickly, he pulled out his wand and imagined his footsteps making no noise. Instantly the slapping of his feet on the floor disappeared. He broke into a run.

\\\/

Neville Longbottom was not very good at many things. He knew that. He also knew that he was a great disappointment to his Grandmother, who constantly spoke about her brave auror son and his wife, and how different they had been to Neville at his age. He wasn't particularly good at spells, he was overweight, and he had hardly any magic.

But Neville knew one thing. He knew the difference between good and bad. Between doing what is right, and doing what is easy. And while it might be easy to follow the other Gryffindors up the stairs to the common room, and while Neville wasn't particularly brave, he couldn't let Hermione Granger go running into danger by herself.

Paying no attention to the half-hearted shouts of the Ravenclaw prefect, Hermione had rushed over to the Gryffindor table as soon as Dumbledore gave the order to leave. "Pansy's still in the bathroom!" She gasped. And while it took Neville a moment to realise what she meant, when he did, he groaned.

"Shit. Tell a teacher then?"

But when they looked up to the head table, it was empty. All of the teachers had already left, presumably to pursue the troll.

"We better go get her, warn her," Neville sighed. "God knows Ron and Harry won't. They're great, but they're Slytherins at heart."

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Percy!" hissed Neville, pulling Hermione behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view. Then a moment later, Harry came into view following Snape with silent footsteps.

"What's he doing?" Hermione whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the Slytherins?"

"Because he's Harry," Neville sighed. "Probably on some top secret mission making sure Snape isn't getting up to no good."

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape and Harry's fading footsteps.

"They're heading for the third floor," Hermione said, but Neville held up his hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Hermione sniffed and a foul stench reached her nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Neville pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Neville muttered. "We could lock it in."

"No Neville," Hermione moaned. "That's the girls bathroom."

As if to confirm their suspicions, they heard something that made their hearts stop — a high, petrified scream — and it was coming from the chamber the troll had just entered.

It was the last thing Neville wanted to do, and he could feel his legs shaking, but Hermione had taken off towards the bathroom and he couldn't let her go in there alone. Racing down the hall, they entered the bathroom just in time to see Pansy Parkinson shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint.

The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Neville said desperately to Hermione, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Pansy. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Neville. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Hey ugly! " Screamed Hermione from the other side of the chamber, and she threw a metal pipe at it.

The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Hermione instead, giving Neville time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Neville yelled at Pansy, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Hermione, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Suddenly there was a great _crash,_ and half of the wall disappeared in a flash of light. Dust obscured the hole for a moment and then a figure stepped out of the rubble and into the room. They all froze, even the troll and turned to look at the hole.

Harry Potter stepped into the room, assessing the situation at a glance.

Pansy gave an audible groan, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like: "I'll take the troll."

The troll seemed the first to recover and bellowed, turning to Hermione who was the closest. It swung a great fist at her, and she shrieked and ducked, avoiding the swinging blow at the last moment. She scrambled to get up, but the troll reached out a hand to grab her-

" _WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"_ Harry roared, pointing his wand directly at the troll.

The troll rose into the air with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, blinking in bewilderment and fury, its arms flailing wildly. Harry kept his wand trained directly on the troll, his face an impenetrable mask.

"Get out!" He shouted. "Get out of the way!"

Hermione and Neville ran for it, the latter dragging a wailing Pansy into the corridor outside. Looking through the door, they watched the troll rise until it bumped the ceiling, then rotate until it was head down. Neville realised a split second too late just exactly what Harry intended to do.

Harry dropped the troll.

A _splat_ like a pumpkin exploding as the troll's head collided with the ground, and they were splattered with a deluge of troll parts. By parts Neville assumed that the greyish lumps covering his robes were a mixture of blood and brains.

Pansy slumped to the floor in a dead faint, and Hermione looked as though she was going to be sick. Neville felt the same, but tried not to let it show on his face.

Neville slowly walked back into the bathroom. He was shaking and out of breath. Harry was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done.

It was Hermione who spoke first.

"Is it — dead?"

"I think so," said Neville shakily. "Since it doesn't have a head anymore."

Hermione threw up.

Harry seemed stunned. "I was going for its club," he muttered. "I was going to knock it out."

"Don't worry," Neville said, more bravely than he felt. "If you hadn't killed it, it was certainly going to kill us."

"You're right," Harry said slowly, still staring at the corpse.

\\\/

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Neville and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice.

Harry looked at Neville, who looked back at him.

"You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Because, Professor McGonagall, my friends were in serious danger," Harry hissed. "And if the teachers had done _their_ jobs properly and kept the school safe from _trolls_ of all things, I would not have had to take the action that I did."

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry felt suddenly as though Snape _knew_ that Harry had left the safety of his peers with no thought whatsoever of the troll, and his intervention had been a sheer accident.

"Did you have to kill it?" Quirrell said, whimpering.

There was something forced about his whole demeanour, and suspicion blossomed in Harry's mind. "I took what action was necessary to prevent it from killing a student."

"Why were any of you here in the first place?" Snape said, sounding furious that a member of his house had been caught.

Harry glanced towards the corridor, but Pansy had disappeared completely. Hermione gave him a helpless look and shrugged. By before Harry could make an excuse of his own, Hermione stepped forward.

"Please, Professor Snape — they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I — I thought I could deal with it on my own — you know, because I've read all about them."

Harry dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? This was a very, very interesting development.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Neville distracted it, and then Harry levitated it and dropped it on its head. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

"Well — in that case…" said Professor Snape, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head.

"Since your head of house is not present, your punishment falls to me. Ten points from Ravenclaw, and detention with me tomorrow night."

"Yes sir," Hermione whispered.

Professor McGonagall stepped in. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Ravenclaw tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Neville. "Mr Longbottom, Mr Potter you seem to have been exceedingly lucky. Not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win five points to your house. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"What happened?" Harry asked Neville, as soon as they found a deserted corridor.

"Hermione reminded me that Pansy was in the bathroom and didn't know about the troll. We had to go and warn her."

"Did you have to?" Harry sighed. "She calls Hermione and Ron the foulest names, and is a nasty piece of work."

"I might not like her, but that doesn't mean I want her dead," Neville countered.

Harry sighed again, then laughed. "That Gryffindor bravery coming out already!"

Neville blushed. "What were you doing going after Professor Snape anyway?"

"You saw me?"

"Yeah we watched him run past, then you followed."

"He tried to get past the three-headed dog." Harry grinned. "It was hilarious, he didn't try and play music or anything - nearly got his leg ripped off. Really throws into doubt whose side he's one though."

Neville burst out laughing, more from relief than anything. They agreed to catch up the following day, and made their way back to their respective houses.

The Slytherin common room was packed and noisy, everyone was eating the food that had been sent down from the feast. Ron was waiting for Harry by the door. "Where have you been?" He hissed. "Snape never came back, but Pansy arrived ten minutes ago covered in something that looked like brains-"

"Its a long story" Harry said. "Where is she now?"

Ron pointed at a group of Slytherins, and Harry looked across to see Pansy in clean robes, talking to Draco Malfoy. She shot him a look of deepest loathing, and then returned to her conversation.

Harry laughed. "There's gratitude for you," he commented.

"What?" Ron goggled.

"I'll tell you in a minute. Come on, let's get some food, I'm starving."

\\\/

Thanks for reading as ever. I know it's a few weeks away yet, but I'm just itching to get to year two. I have some plans for it that are really exciting me

Next chap in a couple of days

-Cas


	7. Storm Cottage

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: If I was JKR I'd be charging for this

\\\/

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

On a chilly Saturday morning, they were sitting in the Great Hall having breakfast as usual. Neville and Hermione had joined Harry and Ron at the Slytherin table as they periodically did, and the muttering from the other Slytherins had been quickly silenced with a few threatening words from Harry.

The staff were sitting at the head table conversing quietly. Dumbledore was leaning towards Professor McGonagall to compare what looked like some paperwork, and Snape was lazily watching the Slytherins to check for signs of discord. Harry noticed a line appear down his forehead when he noticed Hermione and Neville, but he made no move to say anything. Slightly disappointed, Harry returned to his breakfast.

Suddenly there was a great _bang,_ and the doors to the entrance of the Great Hall flew open. Chilly air swirled in through the doorway, and they shivered reflexively. Then out of the fog, a figure appeared in the doorway.

As he entered the Great Hall, the light from the candles above the tables threw the man's face into sharp relief, and a gasp came from every table. The man had a face that might have once been strong and handsome. But any vestige of handsomeness had been quite literally carved away. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of nose was missing. Even more extraordinary were the man's eyes: one was regular dark beady eye, hidden beneath a chunk of flesh. The other though, was large, round as a coin, and a vivid electric blue.

"Who do you think _that_ is _?"_ Neville whispered to Harry. Then a moment later, realised Harry was no longer in his seat.

The Great Hall appeared to be holding its breath, and Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet. But Harry had already risen, and dashed down from the Slytherin table. With a wide grin on his face, Harry threw his arms around the grizzled man, embracing him in front of the whole hall.

The silence was deafening.

"Get off me, Potter!" Mad-Eye growled, glaring at Harry.

Undeterred, Harry let go as requested but couldn't keep the smile off his face. Living with Kingsley most of the time, he had often gone months between seeing Mad-Eye, when he was on assignments. Ever since he was a tiny child, this had been how he had greeted the aging auror when he returned.

Mad-Eye gave him a filthy look, and Harry smirked. The auror hated anything that compromised him, and it perhaps hadn't been the best idea to expect him to show his cuddly side in front of a room full of potential threats.

Behind Harry, Dumbledore had descended from the dias. "Alastor," he said formally, extending his hand. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Dumbledore," Mad-Eye grunted, taking it suspiciously. "Nice to see you again."

"Indeed Alastor, although the circumstances are somewhat...regrettable." Dumbledore shot a look at Harry, obviously wishing he could send him back to his seat.

"Regrettable!" Harry broke in. "You call this regrettable!"

The entire Great Hall was listening with bated breath, a fact that Dumbledore seemed acutely aware of, for he shot a glance at Mad-Eye warily. "Perhaps we should take this to a more private venue?" He suggested

"No need Albus, I won't be stayin' long."

"Oh really Dumbledore? So you can continue using a series of cover-ups and lies to fuel your own agenda, and only have to deal with the consequences _privately?_ " Harry glared.

Mad-Eye put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, now lad. Calm yourself."

"Yes Mr Potter, this isn't necessary. Can I offer you a spot of breakfast before our meeting Alastor?" Dumbledore said calmly.

"No thank you Albus. A meeting won't be necessary."

"A meeting won't...I thought you were here for a meeting...?"

"Potter informs me that you refuse to answer a few questions - questions that are of _considerable_ interest to us." Mad-Eye glared.

Dumbledore looked around the Great Hall desperately, as though wishing he could make all the witnesses disappear. "Really Alastor this isn't the place. Can I interest you in a spot of tea in my office?"

"So," Mad-Eye continued as though he hasn't heard Dumbledore. "I'm here to ask you one more time if you'll answer our queries. If not..."

"If not?" Dumbledore asked, looking calmer. Clearly he felt there was no threat Mad-Eye could make that would worry him.

"If not, we'll have a copy of that list sent to the Daily Prophet." Harry interjected cheerfully. "And find out if the Wizarding public know anything about it"

Dumbledore paled slightly, although it was hard to tell under his beard. "Are you... _threatening_ me?" He asked slowly.

"Yes, yes we are," Mad-Eye said, sounding pleased that Dumbledore had figured it out so fast. "The Prophet already hold a copy. They're waiting on our say-so though."

"Do you have any _idea_ how dangerous it is to risk that information becoming public?"

"Not as dangerous as whatever other fool plans you've been cooking up involving the boy, that's for sure."

Dumbledore seemed speechless, and McGonagall had begun to make her way towards them, presumably to run damage control, and behind her Snape also looked on the verge of standing. There was dead silence along the house tables, as everyone strained to hear what was going on.

Mad-Eye seemed aware of this, and wrapped it up quickly.."There are probably people you need to contact, Albus," he said. "Sources you need to inform and so on. So we'll give you a bit of time. But if we don't have answer to each and every one of those questions by Christmas..." He left the threat hanging.

"Mr Moody!" Professor McGonagall had arrived. "What are you doing here!"

"I'm on my way out," Mad-Eye smiled horribly at her.

"I'll see you at Christmas?" Harry said hopefully. He missed the old auror considerably while he was away.

"I'll be there lad. And I'll look forward to meeting your friends if they can make it."

"I'll see," Harry smiled. He extended his hand, knowing he'd already pushed his luck with one public hug already.

Mad-Eye shook it, then departed, the doors slamming behind him. Dumbledore returned to his seat looking shaken, but McGonagall gave Harry a piercing look.

Harry returned to his seat to find the whole Slytherin table staring at him. He ignored them, and helped himself to toast. His friends seemed to have decided to save their questions for later, a kindness for which he was grateful, as the last thing he needed was the whole of Slytherin hearing exactly what they had been referring to.

However, after breakfast no sooner had Harry and Ron returned to the Slytherin common room, than they walked into what could only be described as an ambush.

As Harry entered the common room through the narrow stone passageway, he found himself standing in the centre of a semicircle of first years, all of them clearly waiting for him. Blaise Zabini stood on his left, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode directly in front, and Theodore Nott to his right, completing the circle. Ron entered the room after Harry, and paused warily. Harry subtly slipped his hand into his pocket next to his wand, but didn't draw it out; waiting to first see what was going on.

Daphne spoke up first. "We've been waiting for you" she said.

"Yes?" Harry said, his mind racing. He hadn't expected this at all.

"We need to talk to you. We've got half an hour before lessons start, follow us," Daphne said abruptly. She and Millicent stepped through Ron and Harry towards the door. Harry and Ron exchanged glances and then followed her. Blaise and Theodore followed closely behind; they seemed to be guarding the rear to make sure he and Ron didn't try to escape. It struck Harry how very efficiently they were operating: This had obviously been planned in advance.

When they reached an empty classroom, they filed in. "Take a seat," Daphne said abruptly, gesturing to two chairs. She seemed to have been elected spokeswoman. _Definately planned in advance,_ Harry noted.

"I'd rather stand thanks," Harry said. If this turned out to be unfriendly, he wanted to be able to get out if necessary. Behind them, Harry heard Blaise locking the door.

"Whats going on?" Ron asked.

"Sorry to drag you out here, the common room isn't very private, and we don't want any of the older students finding out."

"Finding out what?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"We need to know what's going on, Potter," Millicent Bulstrode spoke up. Harry didn't think he'd ever heard the hefty Slytherin speak before - she had a surprisingly deep voice for an eleven year old girl.

"What do you mean?" Harry said, trying to buy time.

"Don't play dumb," Daphne picked up the thread. "We're Slytherins. We've been trained since childhood to _notice_ what's going on, although you might not have picked up on that spending all your time with a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

Harry didn't like her tone, and told her so. Daphne shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't trust us. We're in Slytherin, and we're supposed to stick together. Instead, you're off arguing with the headmaster, sticking up for the other houses, attacking Malfoy and performing wandless magic at _eleven."_

One look at her face told Harry there was no point in playing dumb. "Does it matter?" He asked.

"What do you mean does it matter?"

"Well aside from the fact that you're in Slytherin too, what reason do you have to question me on these things?"

Blaise and Theodore moved to stand behind Daphne protectively, and Blaise spoke up.

"We don't want to pry," he said calmly. "But perhaps I can explain this more easily."

Harry nodded, and Blaise continued.

"You mentioned during one lesson that you weren't raised in Britain. That seems very clear to us. I don't think you quite understand the environment we were all raised in as pureblood offspring, with parents heavily involved in the dark arts."

"Go on."

"We were all ordered to gather information on you from the moment we arrived. Nobody knew where you'd grown up, but there was a rumour it was with muggles - and you were supposed to be an easy target. We were supposed to pass information about you on to our parents. The rest of the Slytherin first years are doing the same thing - Draco especially."

Harry burst out laughing. It was too much, he couldn't take it anymore. The Slytherins looked at him like he'd gone mad. "I'm sorry," he choked. "Its just that - I was sorted into Slytherin too, remember. Do you really think I'm not here to do exactly the same thing to you?"

Ron sniggered behind Harry, and the four other Slytherins stared at Harry as if he'd grown another head. Harry relaxed, and took a seat. Ron sat down next to Harry, but didn't speak. It seemed that the Slytherins had just brought him along for lack of what else to do with him.

"So its true that you grew up with Mad-Eye Moody?"

"Yes, some of the time. But that's common knowledge. What I want to know is...why are you telling me all this? Why aren't you just off making your little reports?"

"Because we don't want to Potter," Daphne interjected. "There's a rumour going around that you blasted Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle on the train without touching your wand. And I saw you knock Malfoy off his broom during flying lesson - he has been flying since he could walk, that wasn't an accident."

"And I saw you in charms," Blaise finished.

"Well done," Harry complimented. "Very observant. In that case, I can't understand why you haven't reported already."

Daphne looked at Harry as though he was being very stupid. Harry was familiar with the look - it was one of Mad-Eye's favourites. "Because, Potter, the one thing we have been raised to understand more than anything else is power. Understand it, respect it, but most of all, to seek it. And you Harry Potter...you have a lot of power."

" _Very_ observant." Harry commented, waiting to see where this was leading.

"So we don't want to make you an enemy" Blaise finished. "We don't want to be on the other side of the fight. We're not idealistic Hufflepuff's - from childhood we've known that the war will start again one day. And we don't want to be on the other side. Because a Harry Potter that can destroy the dark lord at age one could have been a myth. But since you arrived, we've seen that myth confirmed."

Theodore Nott had been standing closest to the door, and hadn't said a word up until this point. He was a tall, stringy boy who hadn't quite grown into his height yet, and he was twitching nervously. "My father ordered me to watch you," he said. "And I'm watching. But you're one of us, and we just wanted you to know that."

With that, all four of them didn't wait for a response, but headed for the door. Daphne was last, and she gave both Harry and Ron long looks, before tossing her blond hair and exiting.

"Phew!" Ron said, turning to Harry with raised eyebrows. "I bet the Gryffindors never have to deal with that kind of in-house drama. Do you trust them?"

"Trust them? Absolutely not. But you don't always have to trust your allies...just keep a _very_ close eye on them."

"Rather you than me mate," Ron said fervently. "Lessons are hard enough, let alone factoring all this mini-auror stuff into it."

They stood up to leave, returning the chairs to behind the desks they had come from. As they closed the door behind them and headed to their first lesson of the day, Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Thank Merlin for that," he grinned. "We need a bit of Weasley sense around here - we can't all be sneaky Slytherins."

\\\/

After the confrontation, life went back to normal. Harry continued using wandless magic whenever he could manage it, and the other Slytherins watched with narrowed eyes.

Every Friday afternoon, the quartet met up by the lake in increasingly chilly weather, to practice their spellcasting. Hermione and Harry usually ended up coaching Ron and Neville, who were finding it harder to keep up, although Harry found it difficult to use his wand and still preferred wandless. He had hoped it was simply a matter of practice, and things would resolve themselves. But over two months into term, and he still couldn't cast without whatever he pointed his wand at going completely haywire.

Professor McGonagall had tried to have several conversations with Harry about wandless magic, but it was difficult when Harry couldn't tell her _how_ exactly he was doing what he was doing. Since he had been trained to use his magic like that since he was a small child, it seemed so natural that trying to work out how it happened actually made his magic feel clumsier, like he was concentrating too hard on it.

Hermione had been researching it for him, and the closest explanation she had found was in _Wilde Magick of Africa._ Harry had a great deal of trouble deciphering the book, which was written in old English. The book also contained horribly casual racist comments towards the African magicians the book authors had studied, making Harry's blood boil.

Hermione convinced him to look past the language, and pay attention to the content. "It's like this;" she explained to him. "Your grasp of your magic was developed when you were very young, to the extent that you had considerable control over it. That means you're able to direct your focus more easily, and your 'store' of magic so to speak, grew much stronger."

Harry nodded - he understood that much. They were sitting in the library late one evening, when the only other students were Ravenclaws. Harry had come to find Hermione to remind her to bring a book they were working from to the next Friday session, and found her instead studying the enormous tome on Africa.

Madam Pince shot them a glare as the last few other students left, and looked pointedly at the clock. Hermione began talking much more quickly in a hushed whisper that Harry had to lean forwards to hear.

"But here's the thing - African magic was never meant to be used with wands. And that's where this book falls down really - they can't even comprehend someone trying to mesh this kind of wild magic with a wand - it's like oil and water. It shouldn't even work."

"So you're saying I shouldn't even be using a wand?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, yes and no," Hermione said awkwardly. "Are you familiar with wizarding law revolving around wand use?"

"Vaguely."

"In Britain, humans are the only magical species allowed to carry a wand. Centaurs aren't, goblins aren't, vampires aren't, house elves certainly aren't."

"Okay..?"

Hermione brushed her hair out of her eyes impatiently. "What this _means_ Harry, is that there are millions of sentient, magical being who have exactly the same intelligence as humans, are perfectly capable of performing magic, but aren't allowed a wand."

"That's ridiculous!"

"It is, but the ministry are scared that they'd be overthrown."

Harry filed this information away in his head, knowing he would revisit it later. He had the feeling he had just been told something monumental, something that would prove to be incredibly significant, and he couldn't wait to talk it over with Kingsley. But he had to focus on the problem at hand first.

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"If you chose not to carry a wand, legally, then you wouldn't be allowed the status of wizard, which gives you almost no options in our society." Hermione said apologetically.

Harry sat back in his chair, and sighed, running his hands through his dreadlocks and twisting them into a low ponytail.

"Well shit," he summarised.

Madam Pince swooped down on them as though she had been hovering behind. "Language! Foul language in the library! Get OUT!"

They ran for cover.

\\\/

November was also the beginning of the Quidditch season. On Saturday, the Slytherins had been informed they would all be expected to appear to support their house in the first match of the year: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Slytherin won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Harry and Ron talked about flying constantly since their first lesson. Both were determined to try out for the house team next year. From the sound of things, so was Malfoy and a few other Slytherins though - so they expected competition.

"Fred and George are both on the Gryffindor team," Ron explained as they sat on their beds in the dormitory one night, before the other boys had come upstairs. "And my older brother Charlie was Gryffindor quidditch captain. So its in the blood really," he said hopefully.

"I wish broomsticks weren't banned back home," Harry said glumly. "I won't be able to get any practice in all summer."

"You'll have to come visit the burrow!" Ron said enthusiastically. "We always have a few brooms spare."

Harry pulled his pyjamas on and gazed at his bedside table where he had a few pictures of himself, Kingsley, Mad-Eye and a few members of Kingsley's family. He missed them, but the summer was long. "Yeah. Maybe, I'd like that,"

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

Ron and Harry visited the Gryffindor table to wish Fred and George good luck, and then offered up several options of how they could cheer them up when Slytherin inevitably won. Their good natured banter was interrupted when Professor McGonagall chivvied them back to their table, but Harry could have sworn he saw surprise in her face when she realised they were only being friendly.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Hermione joined Ron and Harry in the Slytherin stands, and they waved good-naturedly to Neville who was sitting on the other side of the stands from them with Gryffindor, a vaguely resigned expression on his face. Hermione had a thick book in her hands already, having admitted she couldn't care less about quidditch, especially when Ravenclaw wasn't even playing.

"But if either of you get onto the team I promise I'll watch," she said to Harry and Ron apologetically, before diving nose-first back into her book.

Both teams exited the changing rooms and walked onto the pitch, and the stands exploded with cheers. Harry and Ron whooped and hollered as the green-clad Slytherin team stalked to the centre of the pitch, broomsticks clutched in their hands, glaring at the scarlet Gryffindor players.

Harry couldn't stand most of the team, especially Marcus Flint. But this was different. This was quidditch.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too —"

"JORDAN!"

Harry looked over to the Gryffindor stands to see a boy he vaguely recognised doing the commentary. He noticed the boy had excellent dreadlocks though, and made a note to compliment him on them. Professor McGonagall stood over him, glaring at him every time he made an inappropriate comment.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

The Slytherins groaned and booed, Harry and Ron as loud as the rest.

At the game progressed, it became clear that the Gryffindor chasers were far superior to the Slytherins, a fact that the commentator Jordan seemed gleefully aware of. When the score was fifty to nothing in favour of Gryffindor, Harry sighed and leaned over Hermione's shoulder to read her book.

" _Developments in Alchemy since 1300?"_ Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione blushed. "Just a bit of extra reading."

"Mental," Ron commented, his binoculars glued to the Slytherin keeper who had just failed to save another goal. He groaned, shaking his head at the lacklustre performance.

Harry was actually quite well versed in Alchemy. Several summers of his childhood had been spent with a close friend of Mad-Eye's who was an expert. Five year old Harry had initially avoided the 'grown-ups' conversation and spent time with the alchemist's wife Perry instead, usually playing outside on the beach. But as he got older, he found himself more and more interested.

He just about to ask Hermione where she had reached in the book, when there was a commotion from the stands. The Slytherin seeker Terence Higgs was neck in neck with the Gryffindor seeker and they were both streaking towards the ground. The crowd erupted in screams and cheers, and even Hermione craned her back to watch.

Harry and Ron leapt to their feet to get a better view - they were neck in neck - Slytherin was pulling ahead just slightly - they were nearly at the ground -

Suddenly Higgs pulled out of the dive in a spectacular swoop skywards, as the red robed Gryffindor seeker who Harry didn't recognise crashed into the ground. The crowd gasped and the Gryffindors groaned, a few girls screamed. The Gryffindor seeker stirred feebly as his teammates landed to help him, but the Slytherins weren't paying attention.

"We won!" Ron roared, as the Slytherins around them cheered and whooped. Harry cheered as loudly as the rest, but privately smiled as he looked at Ron - the red headed boy had clearly completely reconciled himself to being a Slytherin - house pride and all.

\\\/

As they walked back up to the castle after catching up with Neville, they found themselves uncomfortably close to Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle. The blond boy was clearly aware of this, for he began talking loudly:

"It's a shame Higgs is leaving Hogwarts this year, he's won us the house cup for the last six."

"I actually didn't know that," Harry commented to Ron.

"-So naturally Flint is already considering me for replacement seeker. I mean, we have to have try-outs just for the image really, but Father has already offered to buy the whole team new broomsticks, and it's practically settled..it's all about who you know."

Pansy Parkinson tucked her arm into the crook of Malfoys. "You'll win every game," she cooed.

Malfoy preened, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Its a shame that _some_ people aren't as skilled on a broomstick. Did you see the stupid twins the Gryffindor team has playing? But then considering they can barely afford broomsticks..."

Ron tensed, and Harry laid a hand on his arm. "Allow me," he said with a tiny smirk.

A moment later Malfoy seemed to trip over something on the ground, but when he put out his hands to break his fall, he landed rather heavily on one arm. There was an audible _crack,_ and Pansy shrieked, dropping to her knees beside Malfoy. "Draco..Draco what happened!"

Ron and Neville burst out laughing. As the four of them drew level with Malfoy who was lying on the ground cradling his wrist, Harry called out to him:

"Not that wrist again Malfoy? You've got to learn to be more careful. Don't want to build up a permanent weakness - that's no good for a seeker."

Crabbe and Goyle glowered, but clearly thought better of picking a fight - perhaps they were remembering the train incident. Hermione though, was oddly silent. When they have moved well past the group, she turned to Harry with an unreadable expression. "Was it really necessary to break his wrist?" She asked, sounding troubled. Harry remembered she hadn't been present for the incident during their flying lesson.

Harry posed a question for Hermione instead. "That arrogant prick has called you a mudblood on more than one occasion. Do you want him to do it again?"

"Of course not. But -"

"What did you do the last time he called you a mudblood when we weren't around? And I know he has."

"I ignored him," Hermione said quietly.

"And did that stop him?"

"No."

"Sometimes ignoring someone can make it stop. But with bullies like Malfoy, it will only make him think you're weak. And then he'll do it again - only maybe this time he tries to push the issue even further."

"But does that mean you have to break his wrist?"

"Brutality isn't fun Hermione, but it gets the message across. Madam Pomfrey can heal that in seconds, but the memory will last a lot longer. This is the second time I've broken his wrist, and maybe this time the message will stick."

As they spoke they had entered the entrance hall, and Hermione nodded. She seemed lost in thought. Ron and Neville hung back, arguing over the match. Ron was trying to convince Neville to try out for Gryffindor next year, and Neville was trembling at the very prospect. The last thing Harry heard before they split up for lunch was Ron telling Neville he would have to visit over the summer to play quidditch too.

\\\/

Thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews. Nobody is obligated to review my little story, but those of you who do are very kind.

The baby has been a bit difficult today so I haven't got as much writing done as I usually do, but I'll try and catch up tomorrow, so hopefully the update won't be late.

-Cas


	8. Wands, Werewolves and Wooden Magpies

Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: If I was JKR this wouldn't need to be fan-fiction and you'd all have nice shiny hardback copies.

\\\/

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who won't get anything for Christmas because their families are too poor."

He was looking at Ron as he said this. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, gave Malfoy a threatening look. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the incident after the Quidditch match. He had tried reporting Harry to Snape, who had lazily assigned Harry a single detention, during which he completed his potions homework. Harry noticed Snape had been giving him very long looks recently, and made a note to investigate.

Malfoy, incensed that Harry had escaped what he considered proper punishment, had been even more unpleasant than usual since the incident. Harry wondered just what it would take for him to get the message. He was considering enacting a more painful revenge next time - perhaps a testicle squeezing spell.

Ron growled, and Harry laid a hand on his arm, halting him. Snape didn't like punishing Slytherins, but the last thing they needed was another detention right before Christmas.

Ron was joining Harry at Kingsley's home in Devon for the Christmas holidays, as Mr and Mrs Weasley were visiting Romania to stay with his older brother Charlie. Neville had been given reluctant permission from his grandmother on the condition that he flooed home every day, and Hermione was coming for the second week.

"Its very hard for my parents," she explained to Harry and Ron. "Being muggles, and not understanding what this is all about. Waving goodbye to your daughter for months on end, with no idea where she's actually going."

"Would your parents be interested in joining us for Christmas dinner?" Harry asked curiously. "Kingsley and Mad-Eye would be delighted to have more company."

Hermione blushed with pleasure. "I'll ask them," she promised. But before she could say anything else, Malfoy had shoved past them, knocking her books to the floor.

"Consorting with muggles, Potter?" He sneered. "And I thought your house could sink no lower.."

Definately testicle squeezing next time, Harry thought, helping Hermione with her books.

\\\/

The last night before the holidays was magnificent. The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. They had seen Hagrid carrying a dozen enormous trees up to the castle, where they were then decorated with magic.

The leaving feast was full of Christmas foods; fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had joined Neville at the Gryffindor table for a change, as the Slytherins were looking distinctly unfriendly. Not to mention all they had been talking about all week was the Malfoy Christmas gala. Harry and Ron had absolutely no interest in attending, but Malfoy seemed to think they must be devastated not to receive an invitation, and gleefully talked to those who had about what they could expect at Malfoy Manor.

At the Gryffindor table, they watched Fred and George teasing Percy, pulled crackers which exploded with enormous bangs and puffs of smoke, and ate until they thought they would burst. When they finally staggered back down to the dungeon to bed, Harry and Ron were too tired to talk, and fell into bed, falling asleep instantly.

\\\/

The next morning, they lugged their trunks down to the entrance hall. It was a scene of chaos, as everyone tried to find their things, gather their friends and find a carriage. Harry could see the strange black horses attached to the carriages. Thestrals were common in hot, dry climates like Uganda, and he had witnessed death several times as a child. Corporal punishment was perfectly legal in the other country, and public executions were not uncommon.

It hadn't taken Harry long to realise that nobody else could see the thestrals except for himself and Neville, who eyed them warily. However it was considered impolite in Harry's culture to question another person about whom they had seen die, and so he let the matter remain undiscussed.

When they got on the express, still shivering from the snow-covered platform and the chilly thestral-drawn carriage, they managed to find a compartment just for the four of them again. Harry and Ron used their superior height to heft Neville and Hermione's trunks onto the overhead luggage rack as well as their own, and they all settled back into their seats with relief. The Hogwarts express was always a warm, even temperature, and it was pleasant to sit back and take off their outer robes and feel snug, while outside the windows, the wind whistled and snowy mountains gleamed in the distance

Harry looked around at his friends as they pulled out of the station, and smiled widely. Hermione was still buried nose-first in a huge book, Ron and Neville were playing wizard's chess, and Scabbers was napping on a pile of chocolate frog cards. A great feeling of contentment settled over Harry as he watched them - the kind of contentment he'd been waiting years to feel.

As evening fell, they pulled into Kings Cross. Kingsley was waiting for them, wearing deep purple wizarding robes, encrusted with gold in traditional Ugandan style.

"Kings!" Harry shouted, rushing towards the tall man and embracing him. "Good to see you again."

"And you, young one," Kingsley said, his dark eyes twinkling.

"This is Ron and Neville," Harry introduced. They shook hands with Kingsley, seeming awestruck.

Hermione was still with them, and as Harry introduced them, he could see her itching to ask dozens of questions. She restrained herself however, and said her goodbyes, before leaving through the barrier to enter the muggle world where she intended to meet with her parents.

Kingsley shrunk their trunks, and they placed them in their pockets, before turning to him expectantly. Harry was carrying Vapour in her Cage, and Ron had Scabbers in one pocket.

"Are you ready to go?" Kingsley asked in a deep voice. They all nodded, and he produced a battered old can. "Portkey," he explained. "Can't apparate with all of you, and it's easier than the Knight Bus."

Harry placed a finger on it, and the other two boys did the same. There was an uncomfortable jerk behind his navel, and Kings Cross disappeared.

\\\/

Their semi-permanent home in England, belonging to Kingsley and Mad-Eye Moody, was unexpectedly a tiny cottage on the outskirts of a little seaside town in Devon. As the portkey spat them out onto a narrow dirt track about a hundred metres away from the cottage, they all got their first view of the sea.

Harry had always thought there was something magical about the seaside in winter. When the sand dunes were crusted with ice, and the waves swirled and crashed, each a miniature storm in itself. The sky was steel grey, and the thick clouds looked pregnant with snow. Storm Cottage was a tiny rickety little building that sat on the very end of the beach. It looked completely unremarkable from the outside, like a holiday home abandoned for the winter, or even a fisherman's house. This was, of course, quite deliberate.

Ron and Neville didn't say anything, but shivered as Kingsley led them down the narrow track towards the cottage. Having heard stories about Ron's mother Molly and her famous hospitality, Harry suspected Ron was rather wishing he had been able to go home for Christmas. Harry smirked. He couldn't wait until they got inside.

As they walked around a clump of raggedy looking trees, another house came into view. It was a cottage similar to Storm Cottage, but had a narrow fenced garden around the outside of it. The garden was filled with the most curious plants one had ever seen - tall dangling cacti; bright luminous red bell-shaped flowers on tendrilly stalks that shouldn't have been able to support their weight; roses that seemed to climb up the side of the house and then continue into the air long after gravity should have pulled them down.

An tiny, wizened, ancient old man was using a wand to drape Christmas lights across the cacti, and Harry could hear the plant complaining loudly about it. Behind Harry, Neville let out an excited squeak as he saw the garden.

"That Nicky," Harry said, laughing at the awe on Neville's face. "We always have him over for Christmas dinner - you can ask him about his garden then."

"Harry - Harry some of those plants I've only read about before!" Neville said, sounding overwhelmed.

"Nicky's been collecting unusual plants as long as I can remember," Harry shrugged. Ron was looking bemused, as though he couldn't quite see what all the fuss was about.

"Come on!" Kingsley said, his teeth chattering. Harry had forgotten how much Kingsley struggled in the English winter. Ugandan Christmases were hot and dry.

As they entered the narrow doorframe of Storm Cottage, they straightened up - and found themselves in a magnificent entrance hall.

"Woah," Ron said, looking around.

Mad-Eye and Kingsley had bought the little cottage shortly after taking unofficial custody of baby Harry, and performed more spells and expansions on the interior than Harry would have thought possible. What looked like an unremarkable dwelling from the outside was a mansion on the inside.

"Come on," Harry grinned, taking in their awestruck faces. "I'll show you where your rooms are."

Upstairs there were a dozen bedrooms decorated in different colour schemes. Harry had picked out two that overlooked the beach; Neville's was decorated tastefully in blue and cream, and Ron's in a garish shade of orange. Neville sniggered when he saw Ron's room, and Ron sighed. "I'm stuck with it, aren't I?" He said resignedly.

"I'll leave you to unpack," Harry said. "Then I'll give you the tour, and we'll eat around seven. Mad-Eye and the friend he's bringing are arriving tomorrow morning, so let's make the most of freedom!"

\\\/

Harry was helping Kingsley set the table later that first night when he found an appropriate moment to raise the subject of his wand not working correctly. They laid a red table cloth over the large mahogany table in the front room, and set out polished white plates. Kingsley owned a house elf named Marley, but he was such an exuberant little fellow that he was liable to drop plates from sheer excitement, and then punish himself severely no matter what he was ordered to do or not do. It was safer to simply set the table themselves.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Harry started awkwardly, as he aligned knives carefully by each place mat.

"Yes?" Kingsley said, straightening.

It all came out in a rush. "Ever since the very first lesson my wand hasn't worked for me properly. Everything I do is massively overpowered and I usually don't even get time to say the spell incantation before something explodes or happens ten times faster than I expected it to-"

Kingsley groaned, and clapped a hand to his forehead. "How could I have been so stupid," he said to himself more than Harry, looking out of the window across the sand dunes.

"You mean you know what's wrong?" Harry asked, disbelievingly. After such a stressful situation, Harry had half expected Kingsley to say he had no idea - that Harry would simply have to learn to cope.

"Yes, yes its all my fault. I'm sorry Harry."

"What do you mean?" Harry was concerned. This was most uncharacteristic of Kingsley.

"Do you remember the day we took you to get that wand?"

"Of course. We went to the Ugandan Magic Market, went to the finest wandmaker there and had it custom made like all Ugandan children do."

"And do you remember what it's made of?"

"Of course, Ash wood and Raven feather." Harry said curiously.

Kingsley pulled some glasses from a cupboard and began arranging them. Harry didn't ask him what he meant, he knew the dark man would tell him at the correct time. Eventually Kingsley spoke again, so softly that Harry could hardly hear him.

"You were raised by my tribe, as one of our people, and we always treated you as such," he began. "My cousins, nieces and nephews were your playfellows, and you attended the same magical school I did."

Harry nodded, and Kingsley paused as though to order his thoughts a minute before continuing.

"You were treated as one of us. But you were not one of us. Your white skin was different, but the differences ran far deeper than the skin. Your very magical core was different to the children around you, and so it developed differently. You always fought hard to prove yourself amongst your peers, and you found a place for yourself. But I think if you hadn't gone to Hogwarts, the difference would have become much clearer."

Harry was shaken, although he tried not to show it. As the only English boy in a school full of Ugandan children, he had never been made to feel that he stood out. But it had been his deepest insecurity - the awareness that he would never be the same as them, and even more - that he had a destiny they couldn't even comprehend.

"What does it it mean for my wand?" He asked desperately, filling the water glasses.

"It means, Harry, that you have a wand for a Ugandan child when you are, and always have been British," Kingsley said. "You English people are much more volatile than Ugandans. Your magical core is more unstable, and your wand requires many layers of magical binding to keep your magic under control. Ugandan wands respond to thoughts, not spells or wrist movements. No wonder it's felt out of control."

A wonderful feeling of relief washed through Harry. "So I just need a new wand?" He said with mounting excitement.

"Yes, but I would strongly suggest keeping your first wand. As you discovered with the troll, sometimes it can be incredibly helpful to have a high-powered wand that responds to your mind."

"Good idea!" Harry smiled. "When can I get a new wand?"

"We'll visit Diagon Alley after Christmas, get it sorted out then. You won't be needing it before then." Kingsley said firmly, as with a sweep of his wand the room was suddenly decorated with brightly coloured christmas streamers.

"Won't I need it for practising defense with this tutor?"

"Perhaps. Let's wait and see what he says when he arrives, shall we? Now run along and tell Marley we're ready to eat, and I'll get the others."

\\\/

Marley could cook up a storm. They feasted the first night on an abundance of food that Ron claimed even his mother would have been proud to produce - hearty vegetable soups to chase away the last of the cold, with fresh crusty bread; piles of roasted vegetables; crispy potatoes, sweet kumara, soft onions and garlic; bowls of peas; new potatoes swimming in butter, meats of all kinds.

Neville stared at the feast as Marley levitated it into the front room, with a snappy bow and a cheerful shout of: "DINNER IS SERVED YOUNG MASTERS."

Marley never talked at anything less than full volume. A young, sprightly elf in his prime, he wore a toga style length of silky purple cloth that matched Kingsley's robes. It looked so similar to an item of clothing, that Harry had once asked how the elf could wear it. He had been told that the cloth came from spare material from some curtains in the purple room that Marley had made, and that 'Master Kingsley' had given Marley permission to use the excess fabric, but it was "CERTAINLY NOT CLOTHES YOUNG MASTER HARRY."

Ron looked at the elf with disbelief, but Neville was still gazing at the food. "My Gran never let's me eat like this when I'm away from Hogwarts," he sighed with delight. "She says I need to lose weight."

Neville blushed suddenly, embarrassed at having said more than he meant to. Harry smiled encouragingly at him. "We're eleven Neville, let's not worry about weight loss just yet," he teased, loading up his plate.

"Indeed," Kingsley said. "In fact I have had the pleasure of meeting Augusta Longbottom on several occasions." He smiled at Neville, who looked surprised. "Yes I have. She is a formidable woman, your grandmother. She has lost many things very dear to her heart, and yet continues on with admirable strength of character, and seems determined to do her late son and daughter-in-law proud, in the raising of their son."

Neville looked very thoughtful, and was very quiet for the remainder of the meal.

Harry changed the subject to allow Neville breathing space, and filled Kingsley in on the details of everything that had happened during the term. When he mentioned the troll incident, Kingsley looked at him with utter disbelief, but Neville chimed in to back up the story. Ron looked thoroughly disgruntled at having been left out.

Harry had skipped over the incident in his letters to Kingsley, although he had recounted it in full to Mad-Eye. Kingsley was more of a worrier than Mad-Eye, and Harry couldn't quite believe the younger man wouldn't have simply arrived at the school and demanded an explanation. That, Harry felt was the key difference between his two guardians. Mad-Eye was determined to bring down the dark lord and his followers at all and any costs, but Kingsley was more concerned about raising Harry.

Kingsley was appalled that the teachers had not been able to keep four students away from an encounter with a troll, and that the Slytherin girl had actually slipped away before the teachers even realised she had been missing, causing Hermione to volunteer herself as scapegoat.

"You say she's a Ravenclaw?" Kingsley asked with interest. "That sounds like a very Gryffindor thing for her to do."

"Tell her that," Harry grinned. "She wanted to be in Gryffindor, but apparently the hat thought differently."

"Curious," Kingsley murmured. "I wonder..."

"What?"

"Oh just something I've always wondered about the sorting hat in times of war in the wizarding world. Sometime it places people in houses I wouldn't have necessarily predicted, and I have to wonder how much it knows about the world outside of Hogwarts. After all, it does live in Professor Dumbledore's office and hears everything that goes on."

"I'd love to ask it why it put me in Slytherin," Ron sighed.

"I'd love to ask it why it thought putting me in Gryffindor was a good idea," Neville said ruefully.

"Oh come on!" Harry exclaimed. "Who went after that troll? We all knew she was there. Parkinson is a member of Slytherin though, but trust me when I say neither Ron nor I would have risked our necks for her. Only a Gryffindor would do that."

Neville smiled, and looked rather heartened. As the remains of the food were levitated from the table by Marley; ("MARLEY HOPES THE MASTERS ENJOYED THEIR MEAL MARLEY DOES") They retired to the spacious living room, which had several large squashy armchairs, sofas and cushions arranged around a roaring log fire. An occasional window gave a glimpse of the dark outside, and the rattling suggested it was still windy.

The room was also filled with several bookshelves containing everything from dark magic to muggle cooking. Ron nudged Harry when he saw the shelves. "We'll have a job keeping Hermione out of here when she arrives," he grinned.

Harry offered to go and help Marley with the washing up, while the others rested after a long day. Growing up, Kingsley had ensured that Harry never felt entitled to be waited on hand and foot by house elves - he had always been required when at their English residence, to assist Marley whenever possible with cooking, cleaning and other chores. After encountering precisely the sort of pureblood offspring who had clearly never known a days work in their lives, Harry felt rather grateful for the experience.

The other reason he left, was because he knew Kingsley wanted a more in-depth conversation with Ron and Neville. Harry had made great inroads into allegiances with both boys, and found good friends along the way. However he knew that Kingsley would ask the difficult questions he couldn't,and have an older insight which would glean far more information than he had managed.

Even here, up to his elbows in soapsuds, Marley shouting cheerfully in his ear, his friends upstairs and mugs of hot chocolate being prepared on the bench - even here, Harry couldn't forget that war was coming. In that, he supposed he was more similar to Mad-Eye than Kingsley.

\\\/

Mad-Eye arrived the very next morning, bringing with him a tall, thin, shabby looking man. Harry saw them coming up the path from the kitchen window, and dashed outside to meet them.

The taller man stopped dead staring at Harry, but Harry paid little attention to him at first - he was too busy hugging the grizzled old auror who was like a grandfather to him. Mad-Eye tolerated the hug for far longer than he had in the great hall, resting a great scarred hand on Harry's shoulder in a rare gesture of affection, before shaking Harry off after a minute. Harry took the cue, and turned to the smaller man, who was looking at Harry with the strangest expression on his face.

"Hello," Harry said, offering his hand to the newcomer. "You must be Mr. Lupin?"

"Please, call me Remus," the man said with a tired smile. "Forgive me for staring, but you look so much like Lily and James. You must be Harry?"

"I am," Harry confirmed. "Come in." As they walked towards the house, Harry said quizzically to Lupin:

"I didn't know you were familiar with my parents?"

"James was one of my best friends," said Lupin, sounding surprised. Harry nodded as they reached the doorway, but a broad grin stretched itself across his face. It seemed he was going to have the opportunity to learn about more than just Snape this holiday.

Kingsley was right behind Harry to greet their guest, and take his small trunk, but Ron and Neville hung back awkwardly.

"This is Mr. Lupin," Harry introduced. "He's here to show me - us?" He looked quizzically at Mad-Eye, who nodded. "To show us, a bit more about defense, since Quirrell has been so useless this year, and we do have exams to pass."

"Very pleased to meet you Mr. Lupin." Neville stepped forward, hand extended. It struck Harry then how much Neville had learned about etiquette from his Grandmother. Watching him trip over thin air, you would never have guessed.

Harry decided to keep the main purpose of Lupin's visit quiet for the moment. With Snape's occlumency talents well known within this household, it wouldn't do for Ron to go back into Slytherin house with his mind full of how Lupin had come to tell them about teenage Snape. As Ron greeted Lupin following Neville's example, he was sure he'd made the right call.

\\\/

That afternoon Harry, Kingsley and Mad-Eye met with Lupin in the living room to discuss the real purpose for his visit. Neville was in the kitchen flooing his Grandmother through the fire, and Ron was upstairs writing to his parents. Though bright sunshine streamed through the windows and they could see the beach right outside, it was bitterly cold and a fire roared in the grate. Lupin huddled next to it, and Harry speculated that he felt the cold more because of his skinny frame.

Mad-Eye had gotten right down to business, confirmed to them all that he had double and triple checked Lupin's identity, and scanned the whole house for threats. When he detected nothing, only then did he allow himself to be seated by the fire. Even in his own home he drank from his hip flask, just in case someone had managed to convince the house elf to poison the tea.

"Potter's already had a bit of trainin'" grunted Mad-Eye Moody. "What I could teach him when I was here, an' what Kingsley and the school taught him in Uganda. But that was mostly street scrappin' and wandless, he's not used a wand before this September."

"You were really raised in Uganda?" Lupin said with raised eyebrows, looking intrigued. He sat up straighter and leaned back, settling into the conversation.

"Yeah, it was great," Harry smiled.

"I'm so glad," Lupin said with relief. "After your parents death, I was actually named as one of your guardians, second guardian, in fact, in case of your parents death, but owing to my...circumstances..." Lupin looked at Mad-Eye, a question in his eyes.

"No he doesn't know."

"Know what?" Harry asked interestedly.

"I'm a werewolf, Harry." Lupin said softly. Harry saw a flicker of concern on the man's face, as he waited for his reaction.

"Oh, I see." Harry said, then moved onto the much more important news. "You were my guardian though? Really? I thought that was just the Dursleys and Sirius. Why didn't you take me?"

"Werewolves aren't supposed to procreate Harry," Kingsley said softly. "Or adopt, foster, or anything similar."

"What?!" Harry said, outraged. "That's ridiculous!"

Lupin was looking very sad. "You're so much like your mother," he said wistfully. "She expressed much the same opinion." Harry felt his eyes prickle, and blinked quickly. Both Mad-Eye and Kingsley had known his parents in passing,but not closely like Lupin seemed to. Nobody had ever been able to tell him what his parents had been like as people.

Lupin noticed Harry's discomfort, and changed the subject. "You know about Sirius?"

"We told him what supposedly happened," Kingsley interjected smoothly. "And in fact since it has been mentioned now, that's something we'd like to discuss with you in particular, Lupin."

"Oh really?" Lupins face became tighter.

"Yes, since we had a difficult job tracking you down for this encounter in the first place, and nobody has seen you in the past decade."

The werewolf's face closed in suddenly, and his eyes became wary. Harry thought he might have caught a glimpse of the wolf for a moment. "Surely... Surely you don't think I was involved?" Lupin said slowly.

"No," Kingsley reassured, while Mad-Eye grunted sceptically. "But Sirius Black is of particular interest to us, as I'm sure you can understand."

Lupin frowned for a moment, and then looked at Harry, comprehension dawning. "Of course. Harry's godfather."

"Yes. Immediately after Harry came to us as a baby, we did a little bit of digging at the ministry. And were very surprised to find Sirius Black had been sent to Azkaban without a trial. In fact we're sitting on a bit of a landmine at the moment with it," Kingsley commented.

"Landmine?" Lupin frowned.

"Muggle term," Harry quickly interjected. "Basically we asked Dumbledore for information, and if he doesn't give it, we're going to the press."

Lupin looked shocked, and took another sip of tea without speaking. Slowly, he looked as though he was formulating a thought. He looked around at the company he was in. "Surely...surely you can't think Sirius is innocent?" He said disbelievingly.

"No idea," grunted Mad-Eye. "And he's in the top security wing of Azkaban, which means no visitors or we'd have paid a visit a long time ago."

"But we intend to find out," Harry added smoothly. "Because there's something suspicious about it, something that reeks of a cover up. The only other person we could question is Bartemius Crouch, and unfortunately Kingsley and Mad-Eye could lose their jobs if they tried. All Hogwarts can do is threaten to expel me, in which case I'd simply attend another magical school."

Lupin looked staggered, and dropped his head into his hands. "Give me a minute," he groaned. "This is a lot to take in."

Harry sighed. He too was exhausted. Part of him was really hoping Sirius Black turned out to be guilty, so he could kill him himself. Part of him hoped he wasn't, so he might have his godfather back. But the largest part just wanted to go back to Uganda with Kingsley, and submerge himself in that world, never coming back. Britain was proving to be more stressful that he could have possibly imagined.

Harry leaned against Kingsley wearily. Sometimes thinking about how different his life could have been was enough to make him feel like he was sinking into the ground with exhaustion. The man was probably right.

Lupin shifted in his seat, his lined face tired. Looking at Kingsley, he said softly:

"He may not have had James and Lily, but I can see he had a father."

Kingsley squeezed Harry's shoulder, and didn't speak. Harry knew that Kingsley had lost two children and his young wife to death eater attack shortly before Harry entered his life, and out of respect to the children he had lost, Harry had never referred to Kingsley as 'father', or even 'dad.' But the feeling was the same.

Mad-Eye broke the silence gruffly, his magical eye spinning to point at one of the walls. "Weasley's on his way, let's finish this."

The spell broke, and Harry sat up straight. "So you're here to tell me more about Snape?" He asked.

"Apparently so," Lupin confirmed. "We were in the same schooling year, and although we were certainly not acquaintances, I can tell you a little about his character. And I can certainly tell you about Sirius."

"Actually, Harry said quickly, hearing footsteps approaching. "Would you mind waiting until the second week to have that particular meeting? I have a friend who isn't in Slytherin, but is very insightful, and I think if she was allowed to be a part of this espionage task she could be very helpful."

Harry looked at Mad-Eye for his opinion, as did Lupin. "That might be an idea Potter," the auror growled approvingly. "Start expanding the network now - as long as this girl is trustworthy."

"And there's plenty we can cover this first week anyway," Lupin confirmed.

"Cover what?" Ron asked, entering the room with typical Weasley curiosity, folding up a letter in his hands.

"Mr. Lupin is just talking about what defence work we're going to cover this week," Harry explained, pulling out a spare chair for Ron.

He turned to Lupin, but the man had sat up straight in his chair and was staring at Ron with the strangest expression. If Harry didn't know better, he could swear the werewolf was sniffing.

"Are you alright Remus?" Kingsley asked, noticing.

"Oh yes, sorry, nevermind. I just thought...but, impossible."

"If you're sure.."

"I am sorry. Where were we, defense?"

"How can we do anything here? We can't use magic outside of school?" Ron asked. Harry smirked, and looked at Mad-Eye.

"The entire house and beach are covered Weasley," Mad-Eye confirmed. "No one can pick up on anything, it's all warded. Aurors...privilege."

"Looks like I'll need a new wand sooner rather than later Kings?" Harry asked his mentor.

"Perhaps a trip to Diagon Alley is in order tomorrow," Kingsley conceded.

"You need a new wand?" Lupin asked in surprise.

Harry sighed, and settled in for another long explanation. He noticed however, that Lupin's eyes rarely left Ron throughout the conversation, and he wondered at the strangeness of it.

\\\/

Neville returned from his floo call with the news that his Grandmother was pleased to hear things were going well, sent her greetings, and would be delighted to join them for Christmas dinner.

"We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow Neville," Kingsley said. "Why don't you owl her, and ask if she wants to meet for lunch?"

Neville agreed quickly, and Harry volunteered Vapour to carry the missive. Rather than scribbling a note, Neville wrote a formal invitation on parchment with a quill and ink, much to Harry and Ron's amusement.

"Gran's just like that," Neville said, embarrassed. "If I sent a quick note, she'd think I'd forgotten my manners."

Carrying Vapour to the window, he opened it and tossed the owl up into the stormy sky. She vanished immediately into the clouds. "Will she be alright in this weather?" Neville asked, his round face worried.

"She'll be fine," Harry said easily. "She's flown in worse than this before."

\\\/

There was a question about whether or not this story will have any pairings. YES absolutely, but not while they're eleven. Sorry Robst, that was my main gripe with Harry Crow and lots of other fanfictions. I'm dropping in hints when appropriate, and I'm very excited to get to the romance, but it'll be quite a while. Sorry. Not to mention, I think a good storyline is supported by a romantic twist or two. NOT the other way around.

Some will be canon, some will not be canon but still be predictable, and others would make your jaws drop if I told you what I had planned. (Or maybe not. In fan fiction I think we've seen it all by now.) I'd be delighted to hear your guesses though.

Thanks for reading,

-Cas


	9. Maps and Marauders

Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: Not JKR, but perhaps one day when I've got the hang of this writing business, a nice exciting character like Harry might just "stroll into my head fully formed" too. Keep the faith.

\\\/

Harry loved Diagon Alley. He loved the bustle and the chatter that reminded him of Uganda, and the brights colours, smell and sights. The shop windows with their eye-watering range of items: robes, dragonskin, silver fastenings, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

In his childhood, Kingsley had taken Harry to England to visit Diagon Alley, usually on his birthday. Polyjuiced to look like a Ugandan child, young Harry had gotten a great kick out of having dark skin, and - though he would never admit it - looking like he might be Kingsley's real son. They would wander up and down the alley, Harry staring in every window agog, and stop for an ice cream lunch at Florean Fortescue's. Then in the afternoon, Harry was allowed to choose a modest birthday present of his very own.

He usually chose a book. His primary school in Uganda had books, but they were mostly concerned with Ugandan magical practices which were quite different. Harry loved reading books like Hogwarts; A History, or Magical Beasts of The English Isles, or even on one memorable occasion when Kingsley was feeling lenient, Magical Jokes and Pranks for the Aspiring Wizard.

Walking through the archway with Kingsley, Ron and Neville was a moving moment for Harry, especially since he no longer had to hide who he was. They browsed down the street, then stopped at Gringotts to collect some gold. Harry was as sparing as he could be - he could never forget that the vault his parents had left him had to last him his whole seven years at Hogwarts and until he started earning. When they emerged from the marble building into the sunshine, they looked around for a moment.

"I should go and book us a table for lunch at The Leaky Cauldron," Kingsley said in his deep voice. "Are you three coming, or would you prefer to go and get your wand Harry?"

Harry shrugged. He was enjoying the fresh air, and didn't want to go into a dim pub yet. "I'll go and get my wand. You coming guys?"

Ron nodded right away, but Neville looked torn and muttered; "I should probably go with Mr. Shacklebolt. The Longbottom's have a standing reservation for a private room at the 'Cauldron, and Gran likes to use it." Neville looked embarrassed. They all took the hint and didn't make a big deal of of it, simply nodding and going their separate ways. Ron and Harry headed further into the alley, until they found the wand shop.

The wand shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. It was a long, long way from the hot and dusty Magic Market where Harry had purchased his first wand. Ron was looking with as much interest as Harry, and he remembered Ron had inherited his wand from a family member, and wouldn't have had the opportunity to visit the shop before.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Ron sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he looked closely at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the  
ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Ron must have jumped, too, because there was a crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. I was very surprised when you didn't visit in August." There was a hint of a question in his voice, that Harry felt obliged to answer.

"I already have a wand. It's just not working out for me, so I'm looking for another wand."

"You _have_ a wand?" Mr. Ollivander said sharply, leaning forward to get a closer look at Harry.

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, and handed it to Mr. Ollivander for inspection, who looked as if all his Christmases had come at once. "Why this is one of my dear friend Batenga's wands, is it not?" He cried, looking at it closely from all sides. "Ash and raven feather if I'm not mistaken... Mr Potter how did you come by such a thing?"

Harry recounted the story, and Mr. Ollivander looked delighted. "A cultural wand mix-up, how wonderful!" He cried. Harry did not think it was at all wonderful, and told him so. Mr. Ollivander just smiled, and told him one day he would appreciate the unusual situation he was in, and how rarely it had been repeated throughout history.

Then Mr. Ollivander seemed remember himself, and looked at Harry more closely. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard."

Harry didn't want to prolong their time in the shop any longer, but this gave him an opening he had been looking for. Ever since his conversation with Kingsley about his wand, these thoughts had been swimming through his brain.

"But it just makes no sense! How can a wand choose a wizard? A wand can be suited to a wizard of course, that's why we have them custom made in Uganda." It burst out of his mouth.

"Wands are interesting things Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said softly, but he seemed to be warming to his subject. "When every wand is made, the good wandmaker feels drawn to use certain woods; include certain things. I was taught that a finished wand already knows the witch or wizard it will one day be bound to."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked blankly.

"Magic, Mr. Potter. The wand always knows."

"Alright," Harry said, playing along. "So what if a wand is made for a witch or wizard, but they die before they find the wand at eleven? Does the wand become useless?"

"Impossible to know, since some wands have laid in this shop unclaimed since the time of my great-great-grandfather; the first Ollivander to make wands. Yet their owners might not have even been born yet"

"That's crazy. That completely defies all logic - how can a wand possibly know when a child is going to be born several generations down a line? That suggests time is set in stone and everything is predetermined."

"I _said_ wands were interesting, did I not?"

Harry just shook this head, and asked another question that had been confusing him. "What about when people die? What happens to their wands then?" He asked.

Mr. Ollivander seemed very pleased by the question. "Most pureblood families pass wands down through the generations, handing them on to younger members."

"Wouldn't that put you out of business?"

"There will always be muggleborn students, or large families who don't have enough wands to pass down -" here, his eyes lingered on Ron, who flushed.

"-not to mention, a handed down wand will never work as well as a personal wand, so most recipients choose to replace their wand at some point, and keep the old one as a spare"

"Okay that make sense. But surely somewhere there must be piles of old wands lying around? They can't all break or be passed on."

Mr. Ollivander's eyes glittered. "That, Mr. Potter is a very interesting question."

"You mean you don't know?" Harry said, startled.

"What you have unknowingly hit upon, Mr. Potter, is a little-known phenomenon described in wand-making circles as _The_ _Wooden Magpie."_

"The wooden magpie?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes Mr. Potter. A term used to describe the disappearance of wands, in their thousands, over the last several millennia."

"That's impossible."

"Is it Mr. Potter? Traditionally witches and wizards are _not_ buried with their wands. Yet family members often speak of having a great deal of trouble locating the item after death has occurred. They simply...vanish."

Harry stared at Mr. Ollivander for a long time. The man seemed quite excited by the conversation, and Harry was sure if _he_ had made hundreds of wands only to watch them one day disappear, he wouldn't be looking quite so gleeful.

"The ministry has no record of this," Kingsley said behind Harry. Harry jumped; he hadn't heard the man enter the shop. He turned to see Neville sidle in next to Ron.

"Well you wouldn't, would you," Mr. Ollivander smiled. On him it was downright scary. "Not when we've never _told_ the ministry."

"Why wouldn't you tell the ministry?" Harry frowned.

"Why would we? The more wands disappear, the more business we have. Not to mention we have our own ideas, which we do not want investigating."

Abruptly Mr. Ollivander turned to Kingsley. "It's been a long time since I've seen _you_ in my shop Mr. Shacklebolt. Oak, ten inches. Firm but pliable, with plenty of power. Still in excellent condition?"

Kingsley shook his wrist and a wand slid into his hand. He held it up for Mr. Ollivander's inspection, who took it from him and cradled it as though it were a child. "Ah _yes,"_ he murmured to the wand. "I remember you."

Harry shivered. Mr. Ollivander was giving him the creeps. He wished they could just hurry up and find his wand so he could leave. As if reading his mind, Mr. Ollivander abruptly returned Kingsley's wand, and turned to Harry.

"Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. He was feeling distinctly nostalgic about his _first_ wand fitting, where he had been measured, had some blood taken, and then simply returned the following week to collect his new wand. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, but the warmth suddenly grew too hot, as though the wand was burning him, and he dropped it to the floor with a clatter and an exclamation. He made no move to pick the wand up, massaging his burnt fingers.

" _Definitely_ not," Mr. Ollivander said, putting wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…" as he stowed it under his desk, rather than putting it back on the shelves like the others.

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in the wand that you just tried, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be so affected by this particular wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed, and was relieved to feel Kingsley's comforting presence behind him.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

"If by expecting me to do 'great things,' you mean destroying the bastard when he comes back and snapping his wand in half, then yes I intend to do great things," Harry said calmly. "I apologise in advance for the day when I break one of your creations, but I think the cause justifies the means."

Harry look perhaps a little too much pleasure in seeing Mr. Ollivander speechless. The man stared for a long moment, and then busied himself behind the counter, searching through the shelves until he reached a very old, dusty box that looked as though it was one of the ancient wands Mr Ollivander had spoken about earlier.

"Perhaps..." He murmured, lifting out a wand and offering it to Harry. "White Pine and Thestral tail hair. Twelve inches. Quite brittle. Give it a try."

Harry took the wand, and raised it in his hand. He felt a warmth flood through his fingers, and his magic flowed through the wand as though it was an extension of his arm. He brought the wand swishing down through the air, and an explosion of white light cascaded from the end, showering the dim room in sparks.

"Oh bravo!" Cried Mr Ollivander, applauding. Ron and Neville looked envious, and Kingsley clapped Harry on the back.

"Knew we'd get there eventually," Kingsley smiled. "And no more trouble with this one I'm sure."

\\\/

The mid-morning sun was high in the sky as they made their way back down Diagon Alley. The streets were packed with last minute Christmas shoppers, and Kingsley suggested they took the time to do a bit of shopping themselves. "Gran's arriving in about an hour," Neville piped up, and they agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron then.

Kingsley left them, and they wandered slowly down the street. Several boys of about their age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —"

"Isn't that the broom Malfoy was talking about?" Ron said, wrinkling his nose at the memory.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said longingly, and the three of them were drawn like moths to the window, to stare at the gleaming broomstick.

"I don't care what Malfoy says, I'm trying out for the team next year," Ron said with a determined look.

"What position?" Neville asked curiously.

"Keeper," Ron said. "Fred and George always make me keep for them when they come home, I reckon I could do it. Might need a better broom though.." He tailed off, flushing red.

"I'm trying out for seeker," Harry said cover for Ron. "I don't care if Malfoy thinks he's got an 'arrangement' with Flint - the best flier should get on."

Both Ron and Harry looked at Neville.

"What?" - Interpreting their looks correctly, he shook his head. "No way," the chubby boy argued as they moved away from the shop front and continued down the street. "No way. Did you see what happened the first time I got on a broom?"

"Did you forget? You're coming to The Burrow this summer to play quidditch," Ron said triumphantly. "A week in our orchard and you'll change your mind."

They browsed Flourish and Blotts, where they decided to go three-ways on an expensive book on wizarding-muggle relationships since 3000BC, which they all agreed Hermione would appreciate for Christmas. Then they split up for a short while to buy gifts for each other, and met up again at the post office with their arms full of packages.

Ron was sending similar shaped parcels to all his siblings, and a couple of larger bulky ones for his parents. Neville sent nothing, but he was seeing his Grandmother later. Harry kept hold of Hermione's present, and the ones he had picked up for the others, and stared in delight at the hundreds of owls that fluttered in their cages at the post office. Eventually they tore themselves away, and wandered down to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.

\\\/

Kingsley had described Neville's Grandmother as a formidable woman, and the description wasn't far off the mark, Harry thought, as he was introduced to the austere Longbottom matriarch. Augusta Longbottom was a tall, upright, rather forbidding looking woman in a green dress, who took in everything at a glance. There was something very _British_ about her, Harry decided, watching her greet Neville formally

"You must be Harry Potter," Madam Longbottom said imperiously, taking Harry's offered hand. "And Ronald Weasley," she finished, turning to Ron.

"Good to meet you again Augusta," Kingsley said, kissing the older woman on the cheek. "Shall we order?"

They were in a room on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry hadn't realised that certain wizarding families possessed the clout to simply have a room on _standby_ at all times in case they wished to use it, but when he thought about the Malfoy family it didn't seem so far fetched. It was a simple, plain white room with a large wooden table, and large windows overlooking the street below.

Over a leisurely lunch, Neville regaled his grandmother with Hogwarts stories. Harry noticed Neville didn't mention either the troll incident, nor the flying incident. Recalling that Madam Longbottom had forbidden Neville to fly as a child, Harry could understand why. Instead they discussed classes, teachers and the different houses.

"You and Ronald are both Slytherins?" Madam Longbottom said, raising her eyebrows curiously.

"Gran," Neville muttered.

"No its fine," Harry reassured. "Yes we are, first in our family for both of us. And our other friend Hermione is a Ravenclaw."

"Hermione. Is that the muggleborn girl you mentioned, Neville?"

"Yes," Neville said. He seemed to shrink slightly around his Grandmother, as though he were afraid to say something wrong.

"What about the other Gryffindors?"

Neville looked bothered, and shrugged. Harry felt that a bit of intervention was in order. "Ron and I were so lucky to meet Neville," he said boldly. "We don't really have any other friends in Slytherin, and as all Ron's brothers are in Gryffindor, we spend quite a bit of time with them."

"Really?" Madam Longbottom said curiously, seeming slightly mollified, and pausing to take a sip from her glass.. Harry and Ron weren't quite the honorary Gryffindors he made them out to be, but Harry had already seen enough house prejudice at Hogwarts alone to last him a lifetime, and it was only the first Christmas.

The conversation for the rest of the meal was slightly stiff, and Harry privately thought he understood a great deal more about Neville now he had met his Grandmother. Kingsley engaged the older witch in conversation about her opinions on a bit of legislation currently being debated at the ministry, and Harry, Ron and Neville talked amongst themselves about the kind of thing they expected Lupin to be teaching them.

 _"Remus_ Lupin?" Madam Longbottom interrupted, hearing the name.

"Yes," Harry said calmly, but he could see Neville tense at her tone.

"Isn't he-"

"One of the best defense graduates Hogwarts ever saw?" Kingsley interrupted, giving the witch a long look. "Yes, thats the one."

Madam Longbottom harrumphed, but didn't continue down that train of conversation. By the end of the meal Harry was sorely regretting suggesting the meeting, and he suspected Neville was too. As they parted ways, Harry insincerely told Madam Longbottom how pleased he was that she would be joining them for Christmas dinner, and she thanked Harry and Kingsley for the invitation with considerably more warmth.

\\\/

They returned to find wind howling around Storm cottage, and the waves whipping the cold sea into a frenzy. Inside, Lupin and Mad-Eye were sitting by the fire drinking tea, poring over blueprints, and they could hear Marley singing from the kitchen.

Mad-Eye swivelled in his chair to face them as they came in, his magical eye whizzing in its socket. His wand was trained on him as they entered. "Potter, what did I get you for your last birthday?" He growled.

"A mirror that reveals the true self of anyone under polyjuice," Harry replied easily, used to Mad-Eye's antics.

"Longbottom, what did you break last night?"

"Er, a few plates sir," Neville stammered nervously.

"Weasley, what did your rat do this morning?"

"Left rat droppings on your pillow," Ron muttered, shamefaced.

"Kingsley, your most treasured possession?"

"My wedding ring."

The ageing auror grunted and stowed his wand, turning back to the fire. "Can't be too careful these days."

"These days? Moody you've done that since I could crawl," Harry said, amused.

"An' wizard's have been impersonating each other since long before then laddie!" Mad-Eye roared. "Constant vigilance!"

"Now now Alastor," Kingsley said calmly, setting down their bags and walking further into the room. "What's that you're looking at?"

"Blueprints for Azkaban," Mad-Eye grunted, but didn't elaborate and Kingsley didn't question him further, glancing at Ron and Neville who were looking curious.

\\\/

They met with Lupin on the beach a couple of days later, after Harry had had a chance to grow accustomed to his new wand,and they had all had a few discussions on what they would be learning.

Lupin had changed out of his shabby wizard robes and into a plain nondescript muggle jacket and a pair of battered blue jeans. Harry wondered if Mad-Eye was paying the man for his help, and resolved to suggest it if he wasn't. The clothes looked entirely too cold for this time of year. Harry hadn't let slip to Lupin that he knew, but Kingsley had confided that the reason Lupin was spending the entire Christmas holidays at Storm cottage, was because the two aurors had discovered upon tracking down the man, that he had nowhere else to go.

Lupin however, seemed to be in his element.

Harry, Ron and Neville lined up before him, shivering in their wizard robes.

"Right!" Lupin shouted. "I've been asked to come here, to help you out in your defense a little. In his letter, Mr. Moody told me you're mostly reading theory books in class. Is this true?"

They all nodded.

"Good! So we're going to be focussing on practical. Starting with the most practical - disarming your opponent, and shielding yourself."

Lupin paused as Harry raised a hand. "You dont have to put your hand up Harry, we're not in lessons now. What's the matter?"

"I've already learnt disarming and shielding." Harry said, grimacing in annoyance as the wind whipped his dreadlocks against his face.

" _Incarceo_ ," Lupin said, pointing his wand absentmindedly at Harry's hair, which was immediately bound into a ponytail. "Of course Harry, forgive me. Mad-Eye did say you'd had some prior training. However I believe that would have been wandless?" Harry confirmed, and Lupin nodded as though that was what he had expected to hear. "In that case, starting with the basics would be just as beneficial, considering you're not used to having to watch wrist movements and say incantations."

When Harry didn't object, Lupin raised his wand, and made a complicated motion. A glowing line shot out of the end of his wand, and formed a diagram. "That, is the wrist movement you will need to disarm your opponent," he said. "Give it a try. The spell is _Expelliarmus."_

Ten minutes in, Harry successfully disarmed Neville. Lupin nodded approvingly, but Harry was frustrated at the limitations imposed by having to speak words and make careful movements. He said nothing however, but persevered until he could successfully disarm all three of them. Ron and Neville took longer to master the spell, but by the end of the session were showing progress. Harry was interested to see how much better Neville performed when he wasn't in front of his classmates.

"We'll have to call it a day boys!" Lupin said at last, coming to a halt breathing hard. They had been practising ducking and dodging the spells fired at them as Lupin pointed out that they didn't even need a shield if they could just dodge the spell fired at them.

"But we haven't done shields," Ron said, sounding disappointed. The red-headed boy had applied himself to the task with concentration, and appeared to have enjoyed the exercise.

"Its getting dark," Harry pointed out.

"Harry's right, we can move onto shielding tomorrow," Lupin agreed. "You've all done very well to make as much progress as you have in fact." The werewolf flicked his wand, and the diagram disappeared. The four of them began the brief walk back to storm cottage.

"I hope you'll have a chance to practice this once you get back to Hogwarts," Lupin commented.

"That might help if we actually had a proper defense teacher," Ron muttered under his breath.

"What do you mean?" Lupin asked, his brow furrowed.

"Professor Quirrell is a complete fraud - he's terrified of his own shadow and hasn't taught us any defense since day one," Harry explained.

Lupin looked surprised. "I would have thought Professor Dumbledore would have hired a better applicant than that," he commented.

"Apparently the job's jinxed," Ron said.

" _Really?"_ Harry asked. He hadn't known that.

"Yeah nobody has been able to stay longer than a year in the same position since the 1960s"

"That's one hell of a lot of teachers!"

Lupin looked intrigued. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what Mr Lupin?"

"Oh nothing, nothing. Do call me Remus, Harry, for the last time."

The conversation dwindled as they entered the house just in time for dinner

The night before Christmas, Lupin and Kingsley went outside in the dark of the early evening, followed by Harry, Ron and Neville. When they were a little distance from the house, Lupin and Kingsley raised their wands simultaneously and snow streamed in great gusts from the tips of their wands. They carefully covered the sand dunes, the garden and path, and the little cottage itself. The stars shimmered above them, and a half moon cast a dim, eerie glow across the beach as the waves crashed distantly.

"Kingsley does this every year," Harry said, laughing with delight as the bright flakes fell around them, lit up by the light from the windows of the cottage. Neville was gazing upwards,and seemed awed at the beautiful sight. Ron however was examining the fallen snow sceptically, and looked horrified at the implications.

"We're not training in this are we?" He groaned. Neville and Harry burst out laughing.

They spent the rest of the evening in the living room, sitting in big comfortable armchairs by the fire, playing games and drinking eggnog provided by Marley, who wore a purple Christmas hat to match his toga. It was crowded with all six of them, but it filled Harry with warmth. His favourite Christmases had been spent in Uganda with Kingsley's family, who accepted him as one of them. But he had always known he wasn't really one of them, wasn't Kingsley's real son no matter how much he wished he was. _This though,_ Harry thought. _This is like I belong here._

Mad-Eye and Kingsley passed a bottle of firewhiskey back and forth between themselves. Ron looked longingly at the bottle, but wisely said nothing. Lupin was gazing into the depths of the fire, thinking about what Harry didn't know. The werewolf had been quiet for much of the day, and wouldn't be drawn on the subject.

Ron and Neville were playing chess while Harry watched. Chess was unpopular in Uganda, passed over in favour of more active games, and Harry had never picked up more than the rudiments. He watched with interest as Ron beat Neville with ease, Neville's pieces cowering as they awaited execution.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked admiringly, as Ron's Queen attempted to hack off the opposing Kings' head with a sabre.

"Tactical thinking," Ron said, looking rather pleased with himself.

"You're really good," Neville said forlornly. "I always thought I was good at chess."

"Is it really just tactical thinking?" Harry asked curiously.

"I think so," Ron said, blushing slightly. "I've always been good at chess."

"Excellent, you can be our tactics man," Harry said. "Seriously though, let's put this into real life, I want to test you."

"Alright," Ron agreed, as Neville repaired his chess pieces which were whimpering piteously as their limbs were reattached. Harry wracked his brains for a real life situation, and came up with one relatively quickly.

"Our situation in Slytherin now - half of the house want some kind of secret allegiance, the other half want me dead. I'm spying on them to figure out which ones have parents who are active death eaters, and they're spying on me to figure out how best to kill me. Tactically, what would you do?"

Ron blinked. "Give me a minute."

Harry nodded, sitting back. Neville looked confused, but didn't interrupt.

"The way I see it," Ron began slowly, "is that you're in a strong position."

Harry nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"You've got four first years telling you they're on your side, but their parents want them to pass on information. Those four happen to be friends with the rest of the first years. It's obvious!"

Ron beamed at Harry as if he'd solved everything. Harry looked at him, waiting for him to expand, and Ron sighed, continuing:

"Talk more to the four, and convince them to pass on false information. Use them to find out information on the rest."

"That's assuming we trust them," Harry commented.

"Oh you don't, that's the beauty of it. Since all you're giving them is false information, they know it's not true - but they don't know what the truth actually is!"

"What about their information? They could be lying."

"Dose them with veritaserum?" Ron suggested.

"Because I have so much of that lying around," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Fred and George can get some."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they started breaking into Snape's private stores when they were in first year."

Harry took this information slowly, processing now useful it could be. And how useful Ron could be. He had asked the question half in jest, not really expecting the red-headed boy to come up with anything useful, and had been astonished at his insight. The youngest Weasley son might just turn out to be an incredibly useful ally.

"Will someone _please_ tell me what is going on?" Neville said plaintively.

\\\/

Thanks for reading, and for the helpful reviewer who pointed out my massive plothole, which I have now gone back and fixed. Also for the kind reviewer who pointed out that I had confused Albania with Algeria. Close enough right? I think my brain got a bit bashed around during pregnancy and I haven't recovered full cognitive function yet.

After a pleasant two weeks off, I've returned to work, which means I'm going to be updating on Wednesdays and Sundays from now on because every two days is getting too hard to keep up with between job and baby.

Thanks again for reading

-Cas


	10. Invisibility Cloaks

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: JKR owns. I borrow.

\\\/

On Christmas morning, Harry awoke to find the magical snow had continued to fall overnight, and had expanded to cover the beach, almost reaching as far as Nicky's house. It was piled high up on his windowsill, making the light extra bright and glaring. The smells of a cooked breakfast floated upstairs and if Harry listened closely, he could hear Marley faintly singing Christmas songs in the kitchen. A warm feeling blossomed in his chest, and he jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. Then something caught his eye.

The package was lying at the foot of his bed, wrapped in innocent brown paper. It must have been delivered overnight, or Marley would have put it downstairs with all the other presents that had arrived. Harry was curious, but restrained himself and decided to ask Mad-Eye to cast some diagnostic spells on it to check for threats first. Only an idiot opened a mysterious package without checking the contents first - Christmas or no Christmas.

When he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, it was just in time to see Mad-Eye grumpily dragging an enormous Christmas tree up the path.

"Coercion," he glared as Harry smirked at him. "If I had my way this would be any other day, and you'd all be trainin' instead."

"Yes Mad-Eye," Harry said happily, helping the grumpy man push and pull the Christmas tree through the doorway.

They set it up in the living room, far enough away from the fire that it wouldn't wilt, and Marley immediately appeared with his arms full of decorations.

"BREAKFAST IS READY MASTERS ALASTOR AND HARRY," he shouted happily. "MARLEY WILL DECORATE WHILE THE MASTERS EAT!" And with that, he shooed them out of the room and into the dining room, where the others were already sitting, trying not to laugh at Marley referring to Mad-Eye as 'Master Alastor.' It was like referring to an adult rottweiler as a fluffy puppy.

Hermione and her parents arrived shortly after breakfast. Mad-Eye told Harry he had temporarily added the Granger residence to the floo network so they could arrive easily. Hermione exited the fireplace and beamed at Ron, Harry and Neville who had stepped forward to greet her. "Happy Christmas!" She squealed. She was wearing a bright red christmassy jumper, and had several presents falling out of her arms. As she caught sight of Mad-Eye, her eyes widened, and Harry groaned as he remembered how she has wanted to quiz the auror on merlin knew what.

"Potter," Mad-Eye growled, and Harry sighed.

"Hermione what were you reading during the train journey home from Hogwarts?" He asked wearily.

"Developments in Alchemy since the 1300s," Hermione said, looking confused.

"It's her," Harry informed Mad-Eye. "Sorry Hermione," he added. "Anyone entering the house has to be checked in case someone is impersonating them. Not that anyone has _ever_ impersonated anyone when trying to enter this house."

"Oh it's quite alright," Hermione said. "After all, _Practical Defences for the Magical Home_ advocates security questions as one of the best methods there is!"

Behind Harry, Ron sighed audibly. Suddenly the flames in the fireplace roared emerald green again, and a woman who had to be Hermione's mother stumbled out. "Oh hello," she said, her eyes widening as she saw the gathering in front of her. She was a pretty woman in her thirties, with Hermione's brown hair, but noticeably perfect teeth.

"Mrs Granger," Kingsley said, stepping forward to greet her warmly. Behind her, a man who looked to be several years older than his wife toppled out of the fire. He too, strongly resembled his daughter. He looked at Mad-Eye's rapidly spinning eye, Marley who was entering the room on tottering legs with a tray of drinks, and Lupin who was conjuring up extra chairs. He paled.

Harry tried not to laugh, and greeted the man warmly, showing him to one of the newly conjured chairs.

\\\/

Lunch was a busy, merry affair with so many guests. Augusta Longbottom apparated to the cottage shortly beforehand, and their elderly next door neighbours Nicky and Perry also joined them, as they traditionally did every year they could. Even the presence of his Grandmother couldn't dampen Neville's enthusiasm when he met Nicky, and the two were rhapsodising over the species of plants Nicky grew in his magical garden even before the food was served.

Marley had once again created a feast. Platters of roast vegetables including crispy golden potatoes, sweet carrots and turnips. Steaming tureens of peas, pitchers of gravy and tottering piles of Yorkshire puddings, nestled merrily alongside glistening roast chicken, plump sausages bursting with juices, and steaks. The Granger's stared in amazement as the feast for the twelve of them was laid out on the table.

Augusta Longbottom quickly engaged Lupin in conversation, about the defence he was teaching the children. Harry suspected this was simply a roundabout way of trying to ascertain whether he posed any threat to her Grandson. She seemed mollified by the praise Lupin heaped on Neville, and the progress he had shown during the week, and it seemed she didn't dare question him openly on his lycanthropy in front of so many witnesses.

The Grangers were tucking in with gusto, while they talked with Kingsley. Mrs Granger seemed fascinated that the house was so much bigger on the inside than the outside, and was questioning just _how_ it worked exactly, while Mr Granger looked fondly at his exuberant young wife. Despite their obvious age difference, Harry thought they seemed a loving couple, and could easily see where Hermione got her warmth from. _And her desire to learn,_ he thought wryly, as Mrs Granger said to Kingsley; "Oh yes I know it's magic. But how exactly does _that_ work?"

Hermione was telling Ron, Harry and Neville about her holiday, and they were catching her up on everything they had learnt so far.

"Oh I do hope I can catch up next week," Hermione said worriedly. "It sounds like you've been learning so many useful spells, and they will come in so useful in our exams."

"They also come in useful when people are trying to kill you girlie," Mad-Eye growled from across the table, and Hermione jumped, and didn't say anything. Harry knew she held the auror in high esteem, and the look on her face became much more considering as they told her the disarming and shielding charms they had learnt.

By the time Marley served pudding - wobbling gleaming red jellies, flaming Christmas pudding, carefully stacked mince pies dusted with icing sugar and thick jugs of custard - the conversation had lulled slightly. Hermione was telling Harry about the revelations she had found in the final chapter of her book on Alchemy, when something occurred to Harry, and he chuckled.

"You know Hermione, you have a direct source sitting right here if you're really interested," Harry commented casually.

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned.

"Nicky?" Harry called down the table, and the aging wizard paused in his conversation with Neville about whether or not the venomous tentacula thrived on extra sunlight or not.

"Yes?"

"Hermione here is reading an enormous book on Alchemy, and I thought perhaps you could give her some extra insight?"

"Do you like alchemy sir?" Hermione asked shyly.

Nicky and his wife exchanged glances, and Perry smiled with amusement. "Go on dear," she said. "Tell her."

Nicky brushed a tendril of white hair out of his deeply lined face, and smiled kindly at Hermione, who was looking confused. "My full name," he said slowly, as if for effect. "Is Nicholas Flamel."

Hermione gasped. She seemed momentarily speechless, and then faster than any of them could blink she was occupying the spare chair next to Nicholas, jabbering away at a hundred miles an hour with what seemed like every question under the sun. "-and the book _mentioned_ that you'd found a unique way of combining the two compounds to create a more efficient base that was stable enough to be enchanted without exploding, but it just didn't go into _detail_ and I just don't know _how_ they expected anyone to really understand the concept when they didn't even specify the active ingredient-"

"Hermione," her mother said resignedly from across the table. "Let the man breathe."

"No no, it's quite alright," Nicholas said, smiling at Hermione who looked slightly embarrassed. "I dare say in my youth a _very_ long time ago, I had just as many questions." Then without further ado, he turned to Hermione and began explaining the concept.

Hermione's father smiled at his wife. "It's no good dear," he said. "I'm afraid she takes after you."

In short while, Harry found himself engrossed in conversation with Madam Longbottom, who wanted more specific details on how they were finding the lessons with Lupin. After considering it, Harry took the risk and dropped into conversation that he thought Neville was struggling slightly with having a second hand wand, but was otherwise doing very well. He made no further comment, but when the discourse stopped Madam Longbottom was looking thoughtfully at her Grandson.

By the time pudding was cleared away and they were served coffee and eggnog in the living room by Marley, who looked utterly delighted to have so many tasks to accomplish, they were all feeling very full and pleasantly sleepy. Harry relaxed into his armchair, and felt as though he was sinking into its depths as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He listened idly to Hermione and Nicholas who were still quietly conversing.

"Do you really believe the concept of a philosopher's stone has no place in modern magic?" Hermione was saying.

"I do, truly my dear." Nicholas replied. "In the sixteenth century it caused an absolute scandal, so much so that Perry and I swore we would never create another one, and moreover would only use the one we had for personal lifespan, not gold or riches."

"But what about all the good it can do?"

"That's quite the ethical argument I'm afraid. The ICW convention of 1789 decided that the temptations of endless riches and eternal life would just create too much schism in our society."

Hermione's voice became much quieter, and Harry had to strain to hear her over the buzz of other conversations in the room. "I know nobody else is allowed to make one, or even _use_ one...but I've read all about it, and I'm so interested. While we're here this week...do you think maybe I could just _see_ it? Just once?" Her voice was pleading.

Nicholas sighed deeply, and Harry could sense Hermione's disappointment before he spoke another word. But when he answered, it wasn't the answer Harry expected. "A young enquiring mind such as you're is to be treasured" he began. "I can tell that your thirst for learning drives you, and it is an admirable quality in one so young. And for that reasons I truly wish I could help you."

"But no?" Hermione said sadly.

"No, but not for the reason you think. The Philosophers Stone is no longer in my possession."

Hermione gasped. "Did someone steal it?"

"No, but they were trying to. After a failed attempt that very nearly succeeded, we handed it to the care of a good friend of ours, who is guarding it for us."

"But who would try to steal it?" Hermione said, sounding bewildered.

Suddenly Perenelle leaned over and put a hand on Nicholas's arm. "Perhaps this isn't quite the conversation for Christmas dear," she reproved mildly.

"Yes yes, you're right," Nicholas said quickly, and changed the subject. Hermione though, sounded slightly distant when she continued talking, as though she was still thinking about the earlier conversation.

\\\/

That night after all the guests had departed, Harry was sitting up in bed gazing out of the window at the snow covered beach. Suddenly there came a light knock on his door. Hermione peeped her head around the doorway. Harry noticed she was still wearing her warm clothes, and outdoor cloak.

"Aren't you asleep yet?" He said quietly.

"No. I've been thinking..." She whispered. "And I want to talk to you first, in case I'm wrong."

"Alright, Harry said,sitting up straighter. "Go ahead."

"Can we go outside? I don't want to be overheard."

His curiosity mounting, Harry got out of bed and pulled on his thick outdoor cloak and boots. Then they crept through the sleeping house until they reached the front door. Mad-Eye's thunderous snores echoed through the house, and they could hear the slight clattering of Marley putting away the last of the dishes.

Outside the wind was howling, blowing the snow up in great gusts over the sand dunes, and the sea was an ever present force in the background, waves crashing into the sand. Hermione led the way, until they were some distant from the house before she spoke. Harry could barely make out her face in the dark, and it was an eerie feeling.

"I've been thinking" she began.

"I thought you might have been."

"Shush," Hermione glared. "This is important."

"Alright," Harry said, humouring her. "What's going on?"

"I was talking to Nicholas this evening about the Philosophers Stone."

When Harry stared at her blankly, having not had any idea what one of them was, she sighed impatiently. "It's a stone that turns any metal into gold, and grants the user endless life."

Harry whistled slowly. "Wonder how old Nicky is," he mused

"Over six hundred." Hermione said, "but that's not the important thing."

"Alright I'll bite," Harry sighed. "What's so important about the stone? Obviously it sounds amazing to have, and good for Nicky, but did you have to drag me out in the snow in the middle of the night and tell me about it?"

"Ithinkit'satHogwarts," Hermione said in a rush, stumbling over her words.

"Sorry?"

"I...I think the philosophers stone is at Hogwarts." When Harry simply raised an eyebrow, she continued: "I think it's what that Cerberus was guarding."

Harry looked at her skeptically. "What makes you think that?" He said. "Just because Nicky said someone else was looking after it at the moment..."

"Because there's only one person whose attempt to steal it would be considered serious enough risk death for, Harry!" Hermione said shrilly.

"Death?"

"Do you think the stone works long distance? If Nicholas isn't with the stone, he must have stored life force outside of it. But that won't last forever, hence the risk factor in allowing himself to be parted from it."

"So you think..."

"I think you-know-who tried to steal it, and it's at Hogwarts now."

Harry burst out laughing. "You have to be kidding me!" He chuckled. "You dragged me out here in the snow to tell me _that?_ " Harry shook his head. It just seemed so improbable. Interpreting his look correctly, Hermione began a long explanation of why her theory made sense, but Harry cut her off. "Why don't we talk to Kingsley and Mad-Eye in the morning," he soothed. "And they can do a bit more digging on this theory."

Hermione sighed and nodded. She was shivering in the dark, and Harry passed her his cloak. "Come on," he said. "Let's get inside, it's freezing."

Before they had gone more than a dozen steps though, they found themselves at wand point.

"And just _what_ exactly do you think you're doin' sneaking off on your own," growled a familiar voice. Harry and Hermione jumped, and took a step backwards. Harry groaned, realising he had completely forgotten the magical alarms set around the front door - to stop people from exiting the house in the middle of the night, exactly the way he and Hermione had just done. They looked up into the wildly spinning magical eye of Mad-Eye Moody.

The grizzled old auror was wearing striped pyjamas under a dressing gown, and looked terrifyingly furious.

\\\/

" _Complete_ and utter disregard for safety," Mad-Eye was still fuming in the morning. "Anyone could have seen you, anyone could have kidnapped you. And _you_ girlie," he roared at Hermione, who cowered. "I could have thought you were a death eater leading him away from the house and killed you on the spot!"

Hermione was pale, and looked humiliated. Harry berated himself for not remembering sooner, while Ron and Neville seemed to be saving their questions for later. Worst though, was the disappointment in Kingsley's eyes. Harry hated disappointing Kingsley more than anything. They were all sitting around the breakfast table, eating a light breakfast of cereal and toast before training.

"Anyway, we have more important things to cover today," Mad-Eye growled.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"Have you forgotten boy!" Mad-Eye roared. "We gave Dumbledore until Christmas to answer our questions, and it's boxing day."

Harry's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Does that mean-"

Mad-Eye nodded. "We let the press loose."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm still not sure this is the best idea Alastor," he said slowly, pouring himself a cup of black coffee.

"Trust me," the older auror said. "Nothing will make the old man squawk like the papers. It'll set Cornelius off as well, which is a nice extra touch. I'm sure you can expect to see him up at the castle soon enough, and maybe between them we'll get some answers."

Ron, Neville and Hermione who had all been present in the Great Hall on the day of the Ultimatum, looked intrigued. They hadn't asked Harry what the questions had been on the list, which Harry had appreciated - especially considering how much Hermione hated not knowing things. They had surely been curious like every other student in the hall, and tomorrow that curiosity would be sated.

Draining the remnants of his mysterious hip flask, Mad-Eye rose to his feet and stumped from the room, presumably to send a letter to the press - to let them off their leash. There would be celebrations at the Daily Prophet tonight at their scoop, Harry was sure. Scraping the last of his cornflakes into his mouth, Harry pushed his chair back from the table. He thanked Marley as the little elf removed his bowl, and departed to get changed for training.

\\\/

The headlines the next morning were sensational.

BOY WHO LIVED DEMANDS ANSWERS; screamed the papers - with a grainy picture of a moving Harry climbing onto the Hogwarts express. Harry didn't even know the picture had been taken, and it made him more than a little uncomfortable. The rest of the article was even worse, but Harry gritted his teeth and reminded himself it was for the greater good.

 _Today Wizarding society was rocked by revelations that shook the world, as the elusive Harry Potter speaks out at last. Young Harry spoke at length with our correspondent Rita Skeeter, about his parents death, his unusual life away from Britain, and the answers he is demanding at last._

 _"I'm not afraid to tell the truth," Harry told our reporter. "My parents told the truth, and they died for it. I won't let their sacrifice be for nothing." Harry's green eyes shimmered with tears as he spoke of the parents he had never known. "I know if they're watching, they'd be proud of me," he told us. But when we question him further, his shining green eyes turn to cold emerald as he tells us about the answers that have been unlawfully kept from him - and from you, the British public._

 _The whereabouts of Harry Potter had been a source of endless debate over the last decade, and the Daily Prophet is proud to be the first to bring the truth to the world. Young Harry was scandalously placed with muggle relatives on his mother's side. While we were shocked to hear the Saviour of the Wizarding World was placed with muggles, what follows will have our readers banging on the ministry doors to register their complaints. Orphaned Harry was given_ back _by his relatives to the first wizard who offered to take him - one Kingsley Shacklebolt, an auror at the Ministry. "Kingsley is like a father to me," Harry admitted with a touching quaver in his voice. "Although I know I'll meet my real father again one day, I couldn't have asked for anyone better than Kingsley here on earth."_

"I said nothing of the sort!" Harry groaned, banging the paper back on the table. "I didn't say any of this! This reporter has literally made it up."

Kingsley squeezed Harry's shoulder in sympathy. "Remember why we're doing this," he reminded Harry. "It's for a purpose."

 _But readers, what we have to now ask is this:_

 _Harry Potters Godfather Sirius Black was arrested two days after the tragic murder of Harry's parents, and sentenced to life in Azkaban. However, in the intervening two days,_ why _was no attempt made to place Harry with Sirius Black? Legally, magical godparents are first in line for custody. And while we consider this, readers should also consider the other question our saviour is asking. Why was Sirius Black denied a trial? When a member of an ancient and respected noble house such as Black could be thrown into Azkaban without so much as a cursory investigation into his innocence, it begs the question - who could be next?_

 _"I'm not saying he's innocent," Harry said, his conviction shining powerfully. "But what kind of a society is this when we throw people in prison without trial? If he's guilty, I want him kissed. But if he's innocent, I want my godfather." Nobody at the Prophet could deny this tragically orphaned young boy the opportunity to see justice at last, and we encourage our readers to join us in demanding a trial for Sirius Black._

 _As we finish our interview, Harry leans forward to take my hand. It seems the strain of his past lies heavily on him. No child should bear such a burden, and yet Harry Potter does not shirk his feeling of responsibility to the Wizarding world. "I have one more question for the British public," he says, looking into my eyes with fierce determination. "When the monster who murdered my parents returns - and mark my words, he will - will you stand beside me?"_

 _For a full list of the Questions We Have Been Denied Answers To, including the goings on at Hogwarts, the ministry, and even the Department of Mysteries - please see page seven._

"What a load of complete and utter tosh," Harry sighed. "I thought we had some leverage over these people?"

"We do, but they don't know that, so we thought it best to save that leverage for a rainy day," Kingsley said soothingly, patting Harry once more on the shoulder.

"I mean it's not like I don't mind taking one for the team," Harry grouched. "But at no point in that interview did my _shining green eyes_ shimmer with tears."

\\\/

Harry and Hermione met Lupin in the living room late one evening, to have their long awaited discussion regarding Professor Snape. Hermione had been initially scandalised by the news that they were searching for information on a teacher's history, but when Harry explained the circumstances, she had agreed to help. All week she had excelled in their defense lessons. She had confessed to Harry that seeing her muggle parents surrounded by magicals had brought home how defenseless they were, and she was determined to protect them. Harry wished he could include Ron and Neville in this discussion, as keeping secrets from his friends wasn't fun - but Ron couldn't guard his mind like Harry, and Snape never stopped picking on Neville, making him an easy target.

The rest of the household was winding down by the time Harry and Hermione carried mugs of hot chocolate into the living room, and settled into armchairs opposite Lupin. Hermione had brought a notebook and pen with her. Harry had noticed she preferred to use muggle items during the holidays, and after trying a muggle pen himself one day he could quite see the appeal. Sometimes he thought wizards stuck to tradition too much, to the extent that it prevented them from moving forwards as a society.

Lupin looked exhausted in the light of the fire. It had been the full moon only two days before, and he had left for a couple of days to stay in his own home. Harry didn't know how he kept himself locked away during his transformations, and felt a bit squeamish considering it. But the man had rallied upon his return, and taught them as much as ever during their daily sessions on the beach.

"Harry, Hermione," Lupin greeted them with a weary smile. "Let's get started."

They pulled their chairs in closer, and Hermione poised her pen ready to take notes.

"So you knew Professor Snape at school?" Harry said.

"Yes I did. We were in the same year in fact."

"Were you friends?" Asked Hermione curiously, noting the year in her book.

"Not at all," Lupin admitted. "But your mother was, Harry."

"My mum was friends with Snape?" Harry said, stunned.

"Until fifth year at least," Lupin nodded. "I think they knew each other before Hogwarts"

Harry nodded slowly, absorbing this new information. He couldn't imagine the mother he had heard stories about for years, being friends with the dour potions master. Hermione though, didn't seem overly surprised. "Well they were in the same year and she was good at potions too," the girl commented.

"How did you know my mum was good at potions," Harry stared.

"I found her when I was looking up old records of muggleborn academic achievements," Hermione admitted, her cheeks developing a pink tinge.

"What about my dad? He wasn't friends with Snape was he?" Harry asked, rather wishing he had brought a notebook of his own. If Harry wasn't mistaken, Lupin's face tightened slightly as Harry asked the question, and he took an inordinately long time in composing his answer; running his hands through his greying hair.

"No," Lupin began slowly. "I wouldn't say your father and Severus were friends." Harry waited, and the man continued reluctantly. "Teenage Severus was not a friendly person. He arrived at Hogwarts knowing more dark arts than the seventh years, and virtually all of his friends became the very first death eaters. Your father..well I don't think hate is too strong a word in this situation, to tell you the truth."

"They hated each other?" Harry said, not entirely surprised.

"Very much so. They never missed the opportunity to curse each other. Sirius often joined in."

"Two on one?" Hermione broke in, looking disturbed. "That doesn't sound very fair."

Lupin looked even more bothered by the turn the conversation had taken, but he continued anyway. "Hermione you're right. It wasn't very fair. To be perfectly honest - and I am as much to blame as James or Sirius - the cursing was much more like bullying. Sometimes it got taken too far."

"What do you mean too far?" Harry asked. His throat felt tight.

Lupin clearly didn't want to answer, but steeled himself. "Sometimes your father and Sirius would find out where he was and ambush him. They went out of their way to make his life miserable, and I am ashamed to say I watched and did nothing."

"Poor Professor Snape!" Hermione burst out. "No wonder he hates Gryffindors!"

Harry felt strange. All his life he had heard what a fine man his father had been. The unvarnished truth was painful for an eleven year old boy to hear. "They followed him deliberately?" Harry said slowly. "For the sole purpose of cursing him?"

Lupin looked anguished. "I don't want to taint your memory of James, Harry. But it's important that you know this, so you understand your dealings with Professor Snape in the future. Please remember your father and godfather were very young. Your mother often defended Severus, until an incident changed things. They were just a group of teenagers."

"My mother defended him?" Harry asked, feeling slightly better that one of his parents hadn't been a bully.

"Yes. If she saw us looking for him on the map she would confiscate it, and James would have to beg for it back, but she always warned Severus first," Lupin said looking relieved.

"Map?"

"I'm so sorry Harry, I forgot you wouldn't have known. Forgive me, I forget many things. You look so much like James, it's hard for me to remember you don't know any of this."

"Its fine," Harry said awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"The Marauders Map was a creation of ours during our time at Hogwarts. We created a map of the entire Hogwarts grounds, and enchanted it so it showed the location of where every person on the campus was at any time."

"That's really advanced magic!" Hermione burst out excitedly. "What spells did you use in making it? How did it work?"

"It's a bit late for a full explanation," lupin said yawning, but with a smile. "If you like, I can send you our old notes?"

"Please," said Hermione, her eyes shining.

"So basically Severus was a death-eater-in-training who was bullied by my father, but mysteriously friends with my mother?" Harry asked tiredly.

"Yes. I think he had a rough home life too. His father was a muggle and his mother was a witch. He was an only child, and I think Lily rather took him under her wing."

"I'll bet she did," whispered Hermione.

"What?"

"Nothing Harry. Just thinking."

Hermione seemed to be taking it very personally, and Harry remembered what Mad-Eye had said in his background check on Hermione. He had described her as isolated from her peers, and Hermione seemed to be identifying with the teenage Severus Snape deeply. It only brought home to Harry how empathetic his friend was, and how lucky he, Ron and Neville were to have her around.

They wrapped up the conversation shortly, and retired to bed. Each of them lost in his or her own thoughts.

\\\/

The morning to leave for Hogwarts finally arrived. They were all packing hastily at the last minute, except for Hermione who had been organised two days previously, much to Ron's scorn.

Harry was fumbling down the side of his bed for a quill that had dropped out of sight when his fingers unexpectedly encountered paper. Groping around, he felt something soft wrapped in wrapping paper, and when he withdrew his hand he saw the package he had received on Christmas morning. He had completely forgotten about it until this point, wrapped up in their busy holiday.

Harry took the package gingerly downstairs to Mad-Eye, and asked him to check the contents. Mad-Eye eyed the parcel with a look of utter suspicion, and placed it on the dining room table, where he scanned it with his magical eye.

"That's funny," he grunted. "Can't see nothing at all in it."

"Is it safe?" Harry asked warily.

"Hard to tell. Only one way to find out." Mad-Eye flicked his wand at the package and the wrapping paper vanished. Something light and silvery slithered to the floor, and Harry jumped back. Next moment he felt rather silly as he realised it was just pile of fabric.

"Just a cloak," he said, relieved.

"Not so fast laddie," Mad-Eye muttered, levitating the cloak with his wand. He walked around it, inspecting it from all sides. A deep frown appeared on his face as he considered the offending article. Finally he pronounced a verdict, although he spoke slowly as though trying to convince himself. "This is an invisibility cloak. And I'm pretty sure I've seen it before. This here was an invisibility cloak that belonged to James Potter, if I'm not very much mistaken. Never seen one like it before, and never expected to again once he passed. Thought it must have been burned down with your house."

Harry stared in disbelief at the silvery item. "This was my father's invisibility cloak?" He whispered breathlessly.

"Aye," Mad-Eye said warily. "An' the real question is - who sent it, and why?"

Ignoring the warning from Mad-Eye, Harry reached for the cloak. Running his hands over it, it felt lighter than air and as soft as silk. Then his fingers caught on something small edged and papery, and a folded piece of parchment fluttered from one of the folds in the fabric. Harry caught it in one hand, and unfolded it carefully. The handwriting was a tall, slanting script and he held it up to the light to read.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died, and it is time it was returned to you. Although we have found ourselves at odds in recent months, I hope you take this gesture as an apology for the answers I am regretfully unable to give you._

 _Use it well._

"Dumbledore," Harry growled.

"What's Albus playing at now?" Kingsley said, entering the room with a stack of notes.

Harry gestured silently at the invisibility cloak and the note, which Kingsley took from him, frowning. He scanned it, the lines on his face growing deeper as he read the explanation. "Well this explains why we heard nothing from Albus at Christmas," Kingsley sighed at last. "He'd already sent his answer."

"This came at Christmas?" Mad-Eye glared. "An' you're just bringing it for inspection _now_?"

"I forgot," Harry admitted shamefaced. "It must have fallen down the side of my bed."

"Hmph," Mad-Eye grunted as though to intimate to Harry that this explanation was both unsatisfactory and unacceptable.

"What do we do?" Harry asked. He was still gazing at the cloak, reeling from the fact that it had belonged to his father.

"Nothing," grunted Mad-Eye. "We've had our reply, and you got the cloak out of the bargain. I reckon he hoped giving you the cloak might stop us going to the press - luckily we didn't hesitate, or he'd never listen to a threat again."

"I just can't understand that man," sighed Kingsley. "He used to be so brilliant."

\\\/

Writing about Christmas feels distinctly odd in the middle of summer.

Thanks for reading. Next update on Wednesday.

-Cas


	11. Meddling with Malfoy's

Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: JKR, blah blah blah. (Say it out loud. It rhymes.)

\\\/

"Have a good term kiddo," Kingsley said. They were standing by the barrier at Kings Cross. Hermione, Ron and Neville had already thanked Kingsley for their visit and pushed their trolleys through the brick wall, but Harry had hung back to say a more heartfelt goodbye to his guardian.

"Thanks for everything Kings'," Harry said sincerely. "It's been a good Christmas."

"Strange to be in Britain though," Kingsley commented, as though reading Harry's mind.

"Strange to be in Britain with _friends_ " Harry agreed fervently. They had spent many Christmases in Britain with Mad-Eye, but all had been with just the three of them and Marley. The confusion of visitors over the holiday had been a wonderful change for them all.

"Now you be careful this term," Kingsley warned, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "After we released that article, some very important people will be out to get us - and especially you, since they'll see you as a weak link."

"Will you have trouble at the Ministry?" Harry said worriedly

"Undoubtedly - but Alastor is head of department, so any decision to fire me would have to come from him."

Harry sniggered. "Good thing we didn't mention he was responsible for my abduction in the article then."

"Must have slipped my mind," Kingsley winked.

"Don't worry though, I can look after myself," Harry reassured.

"Good. There's actually been a bit of a development in that direction though, but I didn't want to mention it in front of your friends until it was confirmed."

"Oh really?"

"We've been given permission to launch an official application to hold a trial for Black."

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "Well done Kings'!"

"It was actually Alastor who engineered it. He claimed that Black was so obviously guilty, it made more sense to give him a trial and then have him kissed, saving money on Azkaban."

"Genius."

"We thought so too."

"So where do we go from here?"

"Well you'll have to be present. As his godson, you're counted as Black's closest relative, and your word counts for a lot."

"Alright, when is it?"

"In about a month I think. I'll be in touch. Oh by the way - you might receive a bit of mail at Hogwarts, as the post wards around Storm Cottage kept a lot of it out. Just send it to Marley, he'll screen it for anything dangerous."

"Mail. Marley. Got it."

"Ready?"

"Yep. I'll see you soon. Good luck with everything."

"Look after yourself," Kingsley said, and embraced Harry. Harry hugged the tall man back, sorry to be leaving again so soon. Then without further ado, he pushed his trolley through the magical barrier and onto platform nine and three quarters, and set off to find his friends.

\\\/

The trip back to Hogwarts began in relative seclusion, as the four first years secured themselves in the compartment. Hermione made clever use of a locking charm she had learnt, to jam the compartment door shut. Up and down the train there were parties searching for Harry Potter, and the four didn't want to face them without backup. Harry had seriously underestimated the weight his article would carry, and it seemed every student from first to seventh year wanted to give him their opinion - or worse, their parents opinion.

Ron and Neville left on a trip to raid the trolley, and returned with the news that Draco Malfoy was heading up one of these groups - as , "Sirius Black is a member of _my_ family not Potter's, and we certainly have no doubt that he's guilty."

"Slimy little git," Ron hissed, slamming the door shut and spilling cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs across the seat. "Said that you were meddling in the wizarding justice system, and that's what happens when you get raised by monkeys and don't know any better."

Harry rose to his feet furiously at Ron's last words, and headed for the compartment door. He had a blind spot when it came to racists insulting his family - he had experienced enough supremacism from the white officials in Uganda. " _No_ ," Hermione said, blocking his way. "Don't go looking for trouble Harry - it'll find you soon enough anyway!"

"If that little prick thinks he can get away with commenting on my family..."

"Hermione's right," Ron sighed, reaching for a chocolate frog. "Let's face it, you can't walk down a corridor without having an altercation with that prat - and what did Lupin teach us? Don't jump in with a temper - hold back until you have the advantage,and then attack calmly."

Harry stared at them both for a long moment, and sighed, and sunk into his seat. "Glad to hear you paid attention to Lupin anyway," he said to Ron.

"It's like chess, but in real life," Ron said by way of explanation, then groaned as he unwrapped the frog. "I've got Dumbledore - _again."_

"I'll have him," Harry said. "We don't have them in Uganda."

Ron passed the card over to Harry, who eyed the old man in the frame. Dumbledore was a mystery to Harry. He had meddled quite unforgivably in Harry's life and no doubt the lives of countless others - yet it was undeniable that the man had done this all because he truly believed it was the best choice to make - to sacrifice a few in favour of saving the many. There was no doubt he was a phenomenal wizard, but Harry couldn't decide whether he was an ally or a serious impediment.

Turning the card over, he read the writing scribed on the back. " _Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of Dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling_."

Harry put it down idly, but something was nagging at his mind, and he picked the card up again to inspect it more closely. Suddenly Harry realised what had caught his eye. He stared. Here it was - further evidence of what Hermione had been trying to convince him of - that the friend Nicholas had referred to when discussing the stone, was none other than Dumbledore himself.

The philosophers stone was at Hogwarts. It had to be - nothing else fit the situation. Silently, he passed the chocolate frog card to Hermione, who read it and gasped out loud.

"You're right" Harry told her. "You have to be."

"Right about what?" Neville asked curiously. Harry and Hermione shared a glance, and Harry wondered how he should explain this. Ron was also looking interested. Harry sighed, and sat back in his seat. It was going to be a long explanation.

"Well, have you ever heard of the philosophers stone?"

By the time Harry and Hermione had finished their explanation, darkness had fallen outside the carriage windows and they could no longer see the forests and rivers they had been travelling past. Ron and Neville were shaking their heads. "Mental," Ron commented. "Absolutely mental."

"But what do you think?" Hermione said.

"It makes sense," Neville said softly. "All the pieces fit."

"It does mate," Ron said. "Reckon we could steal it? I could do with a bit of extra gold."

"Ron!" Hermione said, sounding scandalised.

"Kidding."

"Well at least we know," Harry said. "But it's not like anything can get to it at Hogwarts."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Neville said quietly. "Have you forgotten Halloween? Snape was trying to get past the Cerberus."

Harry stared. It _had_ slipped his mind. "I guess...I guess we know who the enemy is then," he said slowly. "At last."

As the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, Harry's mind was whirling with thoughts and doubts, and at the centre of them all were two men. The ancient and revered headmaster, and his dark, sour-faced protege.

\\\/

The first morning back at Hogwarts, Harry lay in bed awake for hours. He found it difficult to adjust to changing sleeping places, and his first few days in a new bed were always wakeful. Being in the dungeons, the Slytherin dormitories had no windows and it was an oppressive feeling. Suddenly feeling suffocated, as though he couldn't bear to remain underground for a moment longer, Harry got out of bed. He dressed silently in loose, comfortable muggle clothes, and crept past Ron, Blaise and Theodore's beds

Once outside of Slytherin, he quietly made his way to the entrance hall and out onto the grounds. The Hogwarts grounds were a breathtaking sight in the early winter morning. Still dark, but with the faintest hint of purple light peeping over the horizon, and mist shrouding the ground. Great swathes of fog hid the outskirts of the forest, and Harry shivered in the chill. Making his way around the castle, he began to jog.

Running had always helped clear his mind when he was stressed, and he wondered why he hasn't taken it up at Hogwarts before. Certainly, it was more enjoyable running in the cool Hogwarts morning than under the scorching Ugandan sun.

As the sun came up, Harry made his way back into the entrance hall. He was surprised and uncomfortable to see the first person he encountered was none other than Dumbledore himself. The headmaster appeared to be engaged in conversation with one of the portraits on the wall - a young woman in fifteenth century dress. As Harry entered the hall, the old man turned to spot him, and his face broke into a genial smile.

"Mr Potter," he said, as though nothing could have pleased him more than to encounter Harry. "Up for an early morning stroll?"

"Yes headmaster," Harry said uncomfortably. He felt at a distinct disadvantage, hot and sweaty in muggle clothes, with no witnesses.

"Very good," Dumbledore beamed. Harry said nothing. There appeared to be nothing to say. Dumbledore however, seemed quite keen to chat.

"Did you have a pleasant Christmas?" The old man asked.

"I did thank you," Harry said. "Yourself?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider the question. "Well, no, I don't suppose I did." He said slowly. "The minister of magic bursting in on my boxing day and demanding that I help denounce you to the public - well I'm afraid it rather put a damper on my holiday."

"Oh."

"Yes, he was quite... _irritated,_ by the appearance of a certain article in the Daily Prophet."

"Well, we warned you what would happen if you didn't answer our questions," Harry said, feeling he was on safer ground here.

"Yes you did, didn't you?" Dumbledore twinkled. "You said if I didn't assist you, you would go the the press. And now I believe there's to be an inquiry for Sirius Black? Very good. As head of the Wizengamot I am naturally required to remain impartial. Happily, you can all now testify that I refused to answer your questions or help in any way, and then perhaps I shall have the pleasure of overseeing the trial. Good luck!"

And with that, the silver bearded old man turned,and walked away, drawing his long grey robes around him. Harry was left standing in the hall feeling very confused, and completely unsure whether he had been played or not. Not for the first time, he wished the cryptic old headmaster would be a bit easier to decipher.

"He's clever, that one." Harry turned to see the young woman in the portrait smirking at him.

"Shut up you, you're just a painting," Harry muttered.

\\\/

They entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls later that morning. Hermione was eagerly awaiting the Daily Prophet, having been fascinated by the first article, and waiting to hear how the Ministry responded - as they all were. She gave the delivery owl a Knut and sat down casually at the Slytherin table, unfolding the newspaper eagerly while Harry helped himself to orange juice.

"Look! They're allowing an inquiry into the lack of trial for Black!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. Harry tried to look surprised at this news, but didn't think he managed it.

A large screech owl fluttered down in front of Harry, sticking its leg out self importantly. "Who're you after?" he asked it, languidly removing his orange juice from underneath its beak and leaning forwards to see the recipient's name and address:

Harry Potter  
Great Hall  
Hogwarts School

Frowning as he remembered Kingsley's words, he made to take the letter from the owl, but before he could do so, three, four, five more owls had fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position, treading in the butter and knocking over the salt as each one attempted to give him their letter first.

"What's going on?" Ron asked in amazement, as the whole of Slytherin table leaned forwards to watch and another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting and flapping their wings.

"There are post wards up at Storm Cottage," Harry explained, stripping owls of their letters as fast as he could. "It stops anything incoming from people the wards aren't tuned too - all the mail didn't have anywhere to go until now."

"Pathetic," said Draco Malfoy in a loud voice. "So desperate for attention he makes up lies about murderers and prophecies."

With his arms full of envelopes, Harry was hard put to respond. But before he could draw his wand, Neville spoke up. "Shut up Malfoy," the pudgy boy said bravely.

"Or what?" Malfoy sneered.

"I'll..I'll duel you!" Neville stammered.

Malfoy burst out laughing, as did Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle. "Longbottom you can barely hold a wand."

Neville turned crimson, but drew his wand. Malfoy laughed even harder, pulling out his wand in return. But before either of them could make a move, and soft voice hissed behind them. "Just _what_ do you think you are doing?"

Neville and Malfoy turned to see Professor Snape bearing down upon them, his hook-nosed countenance a frightening visage."He started it Professor Snape," Malfoy said immediately.

"Of that I have no doubt," Snape said, his lip curling. "Return to your house table Longbottom. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"That's not fair!" Hermione protested.

"I don't recall _asking_ for your opinion, Miss Granger. Please return to your house also. Five points for cheek."

Behind Snape, Ron groaned, and Snape turned to see Harry and Ron with their arms full of letters. "Just _what_ do you think you are doing?" He hissed. Harry had never seen the man look so unfriendly, as he glared at Harry. Suddenly he remembered what Lupin had said about Sirius bullying Snape. Harry supposed that his Head of House might not be very happy that one of his Slytherin's was attempting to engineer the release of his most hated enemy.

"Just sorting some letters, sir." Harry said quietly.

"Stop making a spectacle, and deal with this _elsewhere."_ With that, Snape drew his robes around him and stormed back to the head table. Malfoy smirked at Harry and Ron as he buttered his toast, and Harry gritted his teeth.

Dumbledore was absent from the breakfast table that day, and indeed did not return for several days. When he did, his eyes lingered on Harry, making him uncomfortable. It was as though the man could see straight through him. The post also continued for several days, and although he was curious, Harry knew better than to touch any of it. He sent it all straight on to Marley, and hoped the little elf didn't encounter anything more sinister than a howler.

\\\/

As term began properly, Harry had little time to worry about the philosopher's stone, Snape, or letters. With his new wand he could take part in all his lessons without difficulty, and was enjoying himself for the first time without the stress of malfunctioning magic. Every Friday they met by the lake, and practised the spells Lupin had taught them. Hermione had found a book on beginner defensive magic, and they practiced the spells they found in it. Sometimes Hagrid would pass them, and they would greet the giant with their usual enthusiasm. Alongside her own spell research, Hermione was also writing frequently to Lupin about the spells they should be continuing onto, and seemed to relish the challenge of practical application. As they practiced, they could often watch the quidditch teams practising in the skies above the distant quidditch pitch. Sometimes Ron spotted his twin brothers, and sighed with envy - before Hermione brought them all back to the task at hand.

The first quidditch match of the term was fast approaching as the term continued - a playoff between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that would decide who came second in the quidditch cup. Neville had caught the quidditch bug from Ron and his housemates, and was eagerly looking forward to the game. Harry and Ron joked with him about the outcome, but as Slytherin was assured a cup win, felt they could be magnanimous towards Gryffindor. However, a letter soon arrived that drove all thoughts of quidditch out of his head.

In late January, Kingsley wrote to Harry to tell him that the Wizengamot were meeting to discuss holding a trial for Sirius the following week, and he would need to attend. _You will have to make arrangements with your Head of House,_ Kingsley wrote. _I enclose a letter of permission._ Harry was reading the letter under the table in Defense Against The Dark Arts, the only class they shared with Ravenclaw. Hermione was hissing in his ear that he ought to be paying attention, but Harry was having difficulty concentrating when the thought of asking Snape for permission was hanging over his head. Professor Quirrell was stuttering his way through an explanation on Vampire and Wizarding relations.

"F-for the p-past centuries v-vampires and w-wizards had been at odds with each other," he stammered, while they took notes. "V-vampires are h-hot-blooded c-creatures of the night, and so best th-thrive in a c-climate away from the sun, b-but in extreme heat"

"Do they sp-sp-sparkle too?" Harry muttered to Hermione.

"Th-they have n-never drunk wizarding b-blood, preferring to f-f-feast on muggles. However the M-ministry of M-magic believes they are a threat to the S-s-statue of S-secrecy, and therefore there is a b-ban on them residing p-permanently in Britain. They are also n-not allowed to carry wands."

Hermione, who had pointedly ignored Harry, raised her hand. "Professor Quirrell, why would vampires want to carry wands? According to _Sentient Magical Species of the World,_ Vampires possess innate qualities of magic, allowing them enhanced strength and speed, and also allowing their allure to attract humans - similar to veela. Do they even care about a wand ban?"

"W-well nobody really kn-knows Miss Granger," Quirrell said, twisting his hands nervously. "Y-you'd have to a-ask them y-yourself."

Hermione nodded, and made a note on her parchment. "Please don't go looking for a vampire to question it about wands, for extra credit," Harry whispered, and she giggled.

In the corridors, Harry was hounded constantly by students questioning him about the upcoming inquiry, which was being hotly discussed in the Daily Prophet. Draco Malfoy in particular seemed to take pleasure in mocking him, and Harry was tired of people asking if he was just doing it for attention. Half the school seemed to think he was mad, the other half thought he was attention seeking, and a fair few racists had come out of the woodwork to comment on his Ugandan history. Nobody seemed to think Sirius Black might be innocent.

All in all, Harry was quite grateful when Daphne Greengrass collared him one Saturday morning in the Slytherin common room, as he and Ron sat completing a particularly difficult transfiguration essay by the fire. "We want to talk to you," she said grimly. "After the quidditch match this afternoon, down by the lake."

Hufflepuff would be playing Gryffindor that afternoon, and Harry and Ron had already wished Neville good luck for his house.

"I'm bringing friends," Harry told her immediately. It wasn't a request - only an idiot walked into that situation alone. Harry had done a bit of digging on the Greengrass family over the holiday, and felt he had a bit of leverage if Daphne turned nasty.

"Suit yourself," Daphne shrugged, and returned to the table she had been sharing with Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. They put their heads together, muttering darkly and shooting an occasional glance at Harry and Ron.

"What d'ya reckon?" Ron muttered.

"I think," Harry said slowly. "That it's time to pay a visit to Fred and George."

\\\/

Ron still had a substantial amount of parchment left to cover for his transfiguration homework, so Harry set out to find the Weasley twins alone. After a moment's thought, he brought the cloak with him - had hadn't had a proper opportunity to use it yet, and was on the look out for one. It was mid morning though, and with the match due to start in a few hours the corridors and halls were packed with people. Reluctantly, Harry stowed the cloak in his bag again.

After checking the Gryffindor tower, the Great Hall and a couple of other lurking places, Harry eventually made his way down to the quidditch pitch, where he finally located Ron's brothers. They were flying laps of the pitch, taking turns at juggling a pair of beaters bats between them. In spite of himself, Harry was impressed at their dexterity and skill in the sky. Spotting Harry, the two redheads soared to the ground.

"What do we have here Fred?"

"It appears to be a Slytherin George."

"A Slytherin spy perhaps?"

"A little late, the match is this afternoon,"

"Can't tell them much then,"

"He'll just have to report back the usual about us,"

"Stunning looks,"

"Incredible talent,"

"Going to beat Hufflepuff,"

"Just the usual," they chorused, smirking at Harry.

"Sorry to interrupt your training," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "But there's something I need your help with."

"Help?"

"Help a Slytherin?"

"Better not be anything to do with quidditch."

"Its nothing to do with quidditch," Harry sighed. "Can we sit down?"

They made their way over the the stands, where the three boys sat overlooking the pitch. The forbidden forest swayed eerily in the distance, and beyond that, wild mountains rose into the sky. Harry made short work of explaining the deal he had with the other Slytherin first years, and how he was aware of the possibility they might double cross him. He didn't go into specifics, only mentioned it was information gathering. "But Ron said you might be able to source some Veritaserum," Harry said carefully.

The twins looked at each other carefully. "We might," one of them conceded.

"Maybe."

"Possibly."

"But not right away."

"You don't have any?" Harry asked, disappointed. He knew it had been a long shot.

"Not right now."

"Have to make some more,"

"We'll let you know when though."

"Thanks guys," Harry said, getting up to leave, resigned to having to deal with the Slytherins alone. He should have just waited until Ron was free to accompany him - he suspected the twins would have been more forthcoming with their brother.

\\\/

"Have you heard? Snape's refereeing the match," Ron grinned as they made their way to seats in the stands.

"Brilliant!" Harry smirked. There was nobody to reprimand them, as Hermione was sitting with Neville and the Gryffindors, to show solidarity. The whole school had been talking about Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor for weeks, as it would decide whether the Lions or the Badgers came in second behind Slytherin in the quidditch cup. There was an air of cool superiority about the Slytherin crowd, Harry concluded as they sat down.

Daphne and Millicent were sitting in front of Harry and Ron, and Daphne gave them both an appraising look and a short nod at Harry, before turning to face the front. "Look, even Dumbledore's come," Ron exclaimed, watching as the Gryffindor team walked onto the pitch.

"Probably to check Snape doesn't cheat."

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field. "I've never seen Snape look so mean," Ron told Harry. "Look — they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Wonder how long until the Weasley's can't afford brooms anymore? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Harry squinted up at Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker who was circling the match like a hawk.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. There's there's the Weasleys, who've got no money. Then there's that Johnson girl - she's an ethnic minority like your new family Potter. Maybe you could play for Gryffindor next year."

"One more word Malfoy," Harry hissed. Ron was turning red.

Suddenly the Gryffindor seeker went into a dive. "Maybe you'd better play for Hufflepuff instead," Malfoy drawled. "They like losers there"

Ron snapped, and swung a punch at Malfoy. Taken by surprise, the blond boy collapsed to the ground howling, as blood spurted from his nose. Then a horror struck expression appeared on his face, and he began to squirm uncomfortably. He let out a great wail, and clutched the front of his trousers, writhing on the ground.

"Testicle squeezing spell?" Ron muttered to Harry. "Nice one mate."

"It wasn't mine," Harry said slowly. Then he noticed Daphne sitting in the row behind, eying Malfoy with a particularly nasty smirk as she stowed her wand. He raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches — the next second, the seventh year Gryffindor seeker had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The slytherins groaned and booed, as Gryffindor erupted into cheers. Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

"Five minutes!" Ron exclaimed. "That's barely a match!" Behind him, Malfoy whimpered, clutching his groin.

"What happened to 'hold back and attack calmly?'" Harry said to Ron.

\\\/

It was still light by the time Harry, Hermione and Neville made their way down to the lake. As soon as Malfoy could stand up, he had run to Professor Snape to tell him how Ron had attacked him - and the already angry potions master had dragged Ron down to his office for a dressing down on fighting like a muggle. Without Ron for backup, Harry had explained his deal with the other Slytherins to Neville and Hermione. The three of them had their hands in their pockets, grasping their wands as they made their way down the the lake - prepared for anything.

Daphne, Blaise and Theodore stood in a semicircle by the willow tree. They made no pretence - their wands were in their hands. "Potter," Daphne greeted him. "I didn't think you'd be bringing other members of other houses."

"Does it matter? I trust them," Harry countered.

"This is sensitive information, so I hope your trust is not displaced," Blaise said in a surprisingly deep voice for an eleven year old.

"It's not. Now what can I do for you?"

To Harry's surprise, it was Theodore who spoke up. The boy was usually exceptionally quiet - but not in a way that made you think of shyness. More in a way that gave the impression he was studying you, trying to predict your next move.

"Why are you meddling about Sirius Black?" Theodore said threateningly.

Harry looked surprised. "I think it has been well-reported in the press why I'm 'meddling' in the matter. Surely you didn't drag me all the way out here to ask that?"

"Cut the crap," Theodore hissed. "My father has told me he wants you stopped before you do too much damage to our side. The last thing our side needs is that man back out on the streets."

Harry's voice turned cold. "He might not be innocent," he reminded them. "And whats this about _our_ side? Last time I spoke, you indicated you were on mine - albeit quietly."

"You know as well as I do that he's innocent Potter!"

Harry blinked. "He is?"

"Don't be dense. All that crap about having him kissed - you know he'll be acquitted."

Harry did his best to act unsurprised, but his heart was pounding. "What do you know Nott? You weren't there."

Theodore glared at harry, as though deciding whether or not to believe him. "I might not have been. But my father belonged to the inner circle of the Dark Lords followers. He was privy to every plan - and Sirius Black was _never_ working for the Dark Lord."

Harry stared. He was desperate to believe Theodore, but didn't want to get his hopes up without truth serum. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked carefully.

"We had a deal Potter. This is me keeping it. My father and some friends intend that Sirius will never make it to trial - and I'm the only warning you're going to get. If you go ahead with this enquiry, Sirius Black will be dead before he makes it to the courtroom."

The afternoon sun suddenly felt very cold.

\\\/

Harry wrote to Mad-Eye and Kingsley immediately with the new information, and they wrote back thanking him for the intelligence, and informing him that they were proceeding with the enquiry, but had taken steps to ensure no harm would come to Sirius. Harry trusted the men absolutely, but couldn't shake the feeling of dread that followed him.

The inquiry still taking place meant that Harry had to ask Snape for permission to leave the school grounds. He put it off for as long as he could, but with the date of the inquiry looming, it was with reluctant steps that he made his way to Snape's office one February morning. He knocked.

"Enter," came the sibilant voice.

When Harry pushed open the door, the dark man was standing behind a steaming cauldron, stirring carefully as he dropped crumbled leaves into it. "What do you want Potter?" He snapped. Snape had been unfriendly ever since term began, and had become worse as the date of the enquiry approached.

"I need to leave school for a day next week. Could you sign my permission form?" Harry asked quietly.

Without a word, Snape placed a stasis charm on his cauldron and snatched the piece of parchment from Harry's hand. He scanned it, a sneer coming to his face. "Can't stop meddling, can you Potter?"

"Why does everyone use that word," Harry muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing professor."

Snape sniffed. "Unfortunately I have no good reason not to sign this...but if I could object...believe me I would."

"I know sir,"

"You what?"

"I know you would object. I'm sorry sir."

Snape looked at Harry through the cauldron fumes incredulously, a scowl appearing on his face. "What new insolence is this?" He hissed.

"I know about what Sirius Black did to you sir. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my father too."

Snape stared at Harry for a long moment, and then fury suffused his face. "OUT!" He bellowed, his cheeks flushing an unpleasant shade of red. "GET OUT!"

Harry ran for cover. It was only when he arrived back at the Slytherin common room, that he realised he had forgotten his form. Berating himself for a foolish, heavy handed approach, he expected to have to return to the potion masters office the following day. However the form was returned to him - completed - by a glossy-feathered raven the following morning at breakfast, who swooped down the the Slytherin table with disdainful ease, knocking over Harry's breakfast deliberately as it landed. No note accompanied the form, but it could only have come from Snape.

\\\/

No comments about sp-sp-sparkle please, I'm fully aware of the impossibility of the comment given the year we are writing in, but I simply couldn't resist the opportunity for a dig at Meyer.

Thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings.

-Cas


	12. Andromeda's Intervention

Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer: JKR is much better at this writing thing than me, and it all belongs to her.

\\\/

On the morning of the Enquiry, Harry awoke early. He lay awake as long as he could bear, and then went for a jog to clear his mind. The thought of finally having justice done was a heady one, and Harry was struggling to analyse his feelings about it all. One way or another, he would finally have some answers. The pounding of his feet and the burn in his lung calmed him, and gave him an outlet for his nervous energy.

As Harry rounded a corner of Hogwarts castle and the forbidden forest came into view, he was distracted by a thin plume of smoke coming from the gamekeeper's hut. He thought he saw the bulky form of the giant sitting on the steps, although it was hard to be sure in the dark. Jogging closer, the mist receded a little and Hagrid appeared out of the gloom. The giant was sitting on his front steps whittling a piece of wood, a steaming mug of an unknown substance next to him.

"Alrigh' Harry?" Hagrid said, looking up with surprise. "Bit early isn' it? Fancy a cuppa?"

"Morning Hagrid," Harry panted, coming to a halt. He was warm, but would soon cool off in the morning chill. "Go on then."

Hagrid entered his hut briefly, and returned with a bucket-sized mug of hot tea. Harry took it gratefully and breathed in the scent with a sigh. Suddenly they heard barking, and Fang bounded out of the forest, joyfully snapping at Harry and slobbering all over his sleeve. Harry laughed and gave Fang a rough pat on the head.

"So wha's got yeh up so early?" Hagrid asked, draining his mug and spilling it down his beard in the process.

"The enquiry is today so I've been awake for ages."

"Worryin'" Hagrid nodded sagely. "Don' blame yeh. Is Black gonna be there?"

"No, its only an application to proceed to trial, not a trial itself so they won't bring him over for that."

"Ah. Tha's probably for the best, all thin's considered eh?"

"Mmm" Harry shrugged. "It would have been nice to meet him."

"I suppose. Yeh nearly ended up livin' with him after all din' yeh."

Harry looked at Hagrid suspiciously, but the giant had picked up his piece of wood again, and was whittling away. He seemed quite unconcerned.

"What do you mean Hagrid?"

"I dunno, I jus' heard somewhere that yeh were gonna live with 'im, before he was arrested."

"Where did you here that?"

"Ah I canna remember that, it was a lon' time ago."

Harry didn't press the point, and focussed on finishing the enormous quantity of tea Hagrid had given him, not wanting to offend the man. After a little more small talk, Harry returned to the castle. His mind was racing. Either someone had been talking to Hagrid, or cracks were beginning to appear in a decade old memory charm. Whichever it was, it could spell trouble for them.

\\\/

Kingsley picked Harry up later that morning in the entrance hall, and they left Hogwarts virtually unseen. They made their way off the grounds through the wrought iron gates, and then Kingsley side-along apparated them to a grubby alleyway in muggle London. Mad-Eye was waiting for them, an eye-patch covering his magical eye.

"Mad-Eye is our escort," Kingsley said smugly. "To make sure we don't cause trouble."

"On dear," Harry mocked. "I'm so grateful we have such a fine upstanding law-abiding auror with us."

They walked for a few minutes, speaking quietly about the enquiry until they reached their destination. "This is us," Mad-Eye said gruffly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall.

"Why are we going the visitors way?" Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Because you're not supposed to have been here before," Kingsley answered, opening the telephone-box door. In fact, Harry _had_ been to the ministry before. He had been disillusioned or in disguise many times with Mad-Eye, who had pointed out several high ranking death eaters to him, and taken trips to various departments. But Harry suspected the ministry wouldn't be too pleased to hear about the serious flaws in their security systems.

It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Kingsley reached past Harry for the receiver, and entered some numbers. As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Kingsley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody, Ministry aurors. Escorting Harry Potter, witness in a formal enquiry.

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: it was a square silver badge with _Harry Potter, Enquiry Witness_ on it. He pinned it to the front of his robes as the female voice spoke again.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched as the pavement seemed to rise up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could hear only a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Harry, crushed up against Mad-Eye who was audibly grinding his teeth, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes watering.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.

They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly noticeboard. The wall's on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh. On the right-hand side, short queues were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of their wands, the point of the centaurs arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of the Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

"Wand out boy," Mad-Eye muttered to Harry.

"Ignore him," Kingsley interjected. "Nobody is going to attack here."

"That's the sort of attitude that gets you killed," Mad-Eye growled. They continued bickering as they joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases; still others were reading the Daily Prophet while they walked.

Harry was used to the two men arguing - they were like night and day, and rarely agreed on anything when it came to raising Harry. It had certainly made for a varied and interesting childhood. He ignored them.

"This way," Harry grabbed Kingsley's sleeve, rolling his eyes. They stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates. Seated at a desk to the left, beneath a sign saying Security, a badly-shaven wizard in peacock blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.

"I'm a visitor," Harry said.

"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice.

Harry put up with a brief search with a secrecy sensor, and then handed over his wand for registration. After a moment's hesitation, he handed his original Ugandan wand to the security wizard, keeping his usual wand safely in his pocket. Kingsley sighed, and Mad-Eye proudly patted him on the shoulder. Once Harry was given the all-clear, they rejoined the crowd and headed for the lift.

The three of them stepped into the lift with the rest of the crowd and Harry found himself jammed against the back wall. Several witches and wizards were looking at him curiously; he glared back, smoothing his dreadlocks as if daring them to look at the scar. The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling.

"Alright Kingsley?" A redheaded wizard asked.

"Fine Arthur, you?" Kingsley said with a tired smile. With a start, Harry realised this was Ron's father, and he considered thanking the man for letting Ron stay over Christmas. Catching Kingsley's eye, the tall black man shook his head imperceptibly at Harry, who shut his mouth again.

They exited the lift in single file, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye then took up flanking positions on either side of Harry. The positioning made Harry nostalgic. During Harry's childhood, he had sometimes accompanied Kingsley and Mad-Eye to the British embassy in Uganda. The two men had always flanked him there; Mad-Eye to his left and Kingsley to his right, in order to best defend him from any possible attack.

"Here we are," Kingsley said, gesturing to a large black door in front of them. Mad-Eye opened it, peered inside suspiciously and then let Harry and Kingsley through.

Harry wasn't prepared to be nearly blinded by the flashing lights in his eyes and the shouting that suddenly accosted him. Blinking into the sudden glare, he realised the lights were camera flashes, and the shouting was coming from the designated press area, where photographers and reporters jostled for the best position.

"Harry! Harry Potter! Over here!"

"Do you believe Black is innocent?"

"Is it true that Black murdered your parents?"

"Why are you insisting on a trial for this criminal?"

"Can we get a quote Harry?"

Straightening his shoulders, Harry looked around the packed courtroom. The public gallery was full, and a colourful crowd of witches and wizards filled it. Some seemed to have come for the show, others were wearing sombre black robes, and glaring at anyone who looked at them. On benches on the opposite side of the courtroom, sat the members of Wizengamot.

There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver 'W' on the left-hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at him, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity. In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. Harry had little time for Fudge - so far as he could tell, the man was entirely inept.

A broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair sat on Fudges left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. Harry recognised her as Amelia Bones - he had heard excellent things about her from both Kingsley and Mad-Eye, and her niece Susan was a pleasant and clever Hufflepuff girl in Harry's year.

They took their seats, and sat down. They didn't have to wait long. Fudge rose to his feet scowling. "Now all are present, let us begin!"

The press pack fell silent, leaning forward eagerly; cameras held aloft in readiness. Fudge cleared his throat. "Preliminary Enquiry into the case of Sirius Black, on the seventh of February. Case brought to court by Kingsley Shacklebolt, ministry auror, of Storm Cottage, Devon. Arguing in favour: Relative of the accused; Mr Harry Potter."

Fudge paused for a breath, then looked deliberately at Harry with a smug supercilious smile, before continuing. "Arguing against the motion: Relative of the accused; Lord Lucius Malfoy."

Harry looked up, disguising his expression of shock as the eldest, and most dangerous Malfoy entered the courtroom through a doorway to the left of Fudge. The tall blond man was openly sneering at Harry Kingsley and Mad-Eye, as he took his place on a bench across the courtroom from them. They had been unable to find out who was planning to object to their motion until it was too late, and now it became clear that this information had been deliberately kept from them. Lucius Malfoy was a considerable opponent. Harry had grown up reading page after page of the atrocities the man had committed, and had to exercise self control not to pull out his wand and attack him on the spot. In spite of himself, he shivered as the man stared coolly across the room at him.

Fudge extracted a piece of parchment from a pile in front of him, and made a note. "Ministry Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, are you ready to present your case?"

"I am," Kingsley said, rising to his feet fluidly. He had a sheaf of parchment in his arms, but didn't even glance at it.

"Minister Fudge. Esteemed members of the Wizengamot. Members of the public. Members of the you for your assistance in bringing this matter to court." Kingsley gave a slight nod in each direction.

"We are here today to address an imbalance in our justice system. As a ministry auror, my job is to seek and deliver justice to criminals. I am respectful of our laws, and seek to uphold the values of our society. It was those values, that led me to take in Harry Potter as an infant, when his only living relatives felt that as muggles, they were unable to provide an adequate magical early education for him."

The press were scribbling away madly at this. Although there had been great speculation ever since the interview with Rita Skeeter appeared in the Daily

Prophet, no other paper had been able to glean any more information.

After a brief pause, Kingsley continued. "However Harry has another guardian - one with a far greater legal claim than I. One who was available to him on the night of his parents death, and yet one who was denied to him. I am speaking, of course, of Sirius Black. A man whose crimes are well documented, and yet whose guilt has never been proven in a court of law."

Kingsley paused, and looked around impressively. He cut an imposing figure in African Wizards robes, his bald head gleaming. "What kind of a society do we live in when the pureblood heir to an ancient and noble house such as Black, can be thrown into jail without a trial or even investigation? The muggle justice system would never allow such laxity in their laws - a little embarrassing for us, and a mistake that should be rectified. We do not claim that Black is innocent - only that the young man I am proud to call my ward, deserves answers. We, the wizarding community deserve answers. But most of all, no matter who we are, we all deserve fair trial."

The public gallery broke into applause, and Fudge stood, looking annoyed. "Yes yes, thank you very much Mr Shacklebolt. The opposer, Lord Lucius Malfoy. Are you prepared to present your case?"

"I most certainly am, minister," Lucius Malfoy said, rising to his feet. He too cut an impressive figure; long gleaming platinum hair contrasting with the finest, most expensive black robes money could buy. Harry shivered - something about the man made his skin crawl. Lucius Malfoy had an aura of power about him that intimidated and threatened - an aura that thankfully was not yet present in his son.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here today. It was a great disappointment to myself and my family when we discovered that this enquiry was to take place. It seems that even ten years later, people will insist on raking over this painful ground. My wife Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, is, as many of you know, one of the closest living relatives of Sirius Black by blood. It is at her behest that I am speaking today."

Lucius Malfoy looked around impressively. "As many of you know, my wife and I did not speak out when Sirius Black was arrested in 1981, and made no attempt to have him released, in spite of our family connection. This was because we had no doubt of his guilt. During his childhood, Black was described as vicious and aggressive, with psychopathic tendencies. Unfortunately during his Hogwarts years, he emancipated himself from his family and they were sadly unable to exert any control over his increasingly erratic behaviour. Naturally this caused my wife a great deal of sorrow, especially when the full extent of his criminal activities came to light."

"Does anyone believe this crap?" Harry whispered to Kingsley, who was looking bored.

"This is all conjecture - he doesn't have a legal leg to stand on,"

Malfoy didn't seem bothered by the lack of response. "Ladies and gentlemen, we came here today to hear a misguided young boy and his guardian seeking to engineer the release of a criminal, the convicted murderer of over a dozen muggles, and the wizard Peter Pettigrew. However there were multiple witnesses to these crimes, and Albus Dumbledore himself confirmed that Sirius Black was the Potters secret keeper. His actions directly lead to their deaths. Therefore we ask - why cost the justice system galleons and money, to defend a man so obviously guilty?"

Lucius Malfoy sat down again, looking very satisfied. Harry leaned over to Mad-Eye. "Why does he look so happy? That was a piss-poor rebuttal," he muttered.

"I think we'll find out."

Cornelius Fudge stood again. "Thank you for your words Lord Malfoy. Is there anyone else who would like to make a statement before the court opens the floor to questions?" There was silence for a moment, and the photographers lowered their cameras, looking disappointed. Harry thought nobody was going to speak, when suddenly a female voice rang out from the back of the room.

"I would."

The courtroom turned to see who had spoken. A woman with curly brown hair and heavily lidded eyes stood, at the back of the public gallery. She looked to be in her late thirties at least As all eyes turned to her, she began making her way down towards the floor. She entered the legal arena with her head held high. Her eyes though, were oddly blank.

"And you are?" Fudge asked suspiciously.

"Andromeda Tonks, nee Black. Older sister to Narcissa Malfoy, cousin of Sirius Black."

Mad-Eye stiffened next to Harry, and, following his lead, Harry turned to look at Lucius Malfoy. The man wore an entirely unconvincing look of surprise on his face. "Malfoy has something to do with this," Mad-Eye growled softly. "Be on your guard. Andromeda would never usually come to a place like this. I know her well, and she never even mentioned it."

"Do you have a statement to make concerning Sirius Black?"

"I do."

"Please proceed."

"I have listened to both sides of the debate," Andromeda began. There was something off about her - everything seemed too smooth, too well rehearsed. "As the eldest surviving member of the Black family - that is, the eldest surviving member not currently imprisoned - I wish to take responsibility for my cousin's descent into deplorable criminal activities." She looked at Lucius Malfoy as she said this, and he inclined his head to her. She continued:

"Therefore, in accordance with the most ancient and respected laws of the pureblood houses, I invoke the rite of _Iure Sanguinis Funderet!"_ Her voice rose as she finished the sentence, and In a single motion, she drew her wand and sliced across the palm of her hand. There was dead silence for a split second, as a drop of blood welled and slowly dripped to the floor of the courtroom. Then all hell broke loose.

Kingsley rose to his feet instantly. "I object! Andromeda Tonks has no authority to make this claim!"

The public gallery was in uproar, and the press were frantically scrabbling to get pictures of Andromeda, who stood calmly in the middle of the furor, waiting for silence. She didn't look as though she thought she has said anything particularly surprising.

"What just happened?" Harry hissed urgently. Mad-Eye was levelling his eyes at Malfoy, who was still wearing a most unconvincing expression of surprise.

"Andromeda just invoked one of the most ancient laws that govern wizardkind," Mad-Eye said, glaring. " _Iure Sanguinis Funderet_ literally means _blood before law_. The rule states that the eldest free member of a pureblood family can intervene if one of their own is arrested. The relative of the accused can volunteer to take complete responsibility for the criminal - and the criminal must be released to the custody of their family, where the punishment for the crime becomes a family matter."

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "How is that legal!"

"It's a loophole that allows pureblood's to escape persecution so long as their family agrees to be responsible for their rehabilitation. It was invented thousands of years ago in Merlin's time, and has never been repealed."

"Why can't we do that to get Sirius out?"

"You have to have the same blood - legal family doesn't matter, there has to be a physical link."

Fudge had risen to his feet. He had been consulting with Amelia Bones. Both of them were leafing through an enormous tome, which looked as if it might possibly date back as far as this law. It didn't seem as though their findings were to their liking. Amelia Bones was looking furiously at Andromeda, and Fudge looked equally angry. Several members of the Wizengamot were still shouting objections, and the rest were muttering amongst themselves. Fudge had to bang his hammer upon the gavel several times before silence fell.

"Members of the court," Fudge began, and the last few mutters reluctantly quietened. "The Ministry of Magic still functions within the restrictions imposed by rhe Ancient Laws of Wizardkind, as required by the ICW. Although we rarely have need to invoke these laws, they remain binding and legally sound.

"Andromeda Tonks has invoked _Iure Sanguinis Funderet,_ the law that releases a criminal into the care of their family for punishment and rehabilitation. In accordance with these laws, Sirius Black is hereby released into her custody, subject to conditions that will be agreed at a later date. Court will reconvene in one month on the seventh of March, to discuss these conditions. Until that time, Sirius Black with remain in Azkaban."

"That isn't Andromeda!" Kingsley said desperately, drawing attention away from Fudge.

"Why Mr Shacklebolt, are you suggesting that this is an imposter?" Lucius Malfoy drawled, looking quite at ease as he twirled his jewel-topped cane.

"Preposterous!" Fudge spluttered.

"I am happy to submit to polyjuice testing," Andromeda volunteered suddenly, seeming to snap out of a daze. She had been standing staring vacantly into space.

"Very well," Fudge glared, gesturing to a ministry official who was seated to the left of him, dressed in the powder blue robes of a low-ranking clerk. The official gave a squeak, and dashed away. The court sat in dead silence, until he returned shortly with a small vial, which he handed to Andromeda. She lifted it to her lips as everyone watched, and consumed it calmly. The whole courtroom waited in silence, with bated breath. Nothing changed.

"Are you satisfied Mr Shacklebolt?" Fudge called. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "The previous judgement stands. All prior claims are null and void. Andromeda Tonks is now the legal authority over Sirius Black."

"How disappointing that a criminal escaped justice today," Lucius Malfoy said, rising to his feet. He didn't look disappointed at all. "Andromeda, my wife and I will be in contact soon to discuss how best to rehabilitate our cousin. No doubt he will be nearly dead from Azkaban by the time he gets out. Let's hope he survives."

With those parting words, Malfoy swept from the courtroom, his robes swirling around his feet impressively. Andromeda followed him, looking slightly confused. The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet, talking, gathering up their papers and packing them away. Harry stood up. Nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention - Kingsley and Mad-Eye were looking furiously through their notes.

The press caught sight of Harry, and began shouting again.

"How do you feel about the court's decision Harry?"

"Harry! Can we get a picture?"

"Are you planning to appeal the decision?"

Ignoring them all, Harry strode the to exit and stalked out. He nearly bumped into a man hurrying the other way, but pushed past with his head down, not in the mood to be recognised. He headed straight up to Kingsley's office, where he knew the two men would soon join him, and sank into a chair. He didn't understand what had just happened, and could feel a headache coming on.

\\\/

"She was imperiurised," Kingsley shouted, storming into the office and throwing his briefcase on the desk. "I've see it a hundred times before - I know the signs."

"That wasn't Andromeda," Mad-Eye agreed, following him into the office. In an uncharacteristic role reversal, Mad-Eye seemed calm whilst Kingsley was visibly fuming. "I work with her daughter Nymphadora - Andromeda would never play into the hands of Lucius Malfoy like that."

"So we've essentially got Sirius released straight into the hands of Lucius Malfoy," Harry said, feeling sick.

"Yes." Kingsley said grimly. "And in a way that it can never be traced back to him. If anything happens to Black, Andromeda is legally responsible and she would be the one held accountable should he die."

"He'll be dead in days," Harry summarised miserably.

"Exactly. I thought we'd covered every angle, but by bringing in a scapegoat, Malfoy managed to find the one legal loophole we can't fight. And made it look like he lost, at the same time."

"No wonder he's escaped Azkaban this long. He's like a bloody snake."

"Lucius Malfoy is a vicious, clever little bastard." Mad-Eye agreed, slumping at the table with a sigh. "I suppose we should have known it wouldn't be easy."

Kingsley seemed to have calmed down, and was rummaging in a draw beside his desk, pulling out piles of paper looking for something.

"So we give up?" Harry said desperately. "We can't do anything?"

"We never said that," Kingsley said, finally emerging with a thick envelope in his hand. He pulled out a sheaf of parchment, and tossed it onto the table. "We don't give up. Not when we've just had the strongest evidence yet that Sirius Black is innocent."

"We have?"

"If he was a death eater, Malfoy wouldn't want him bound by a custody rite. Malfoy would want him walking free, ready to wreak chaos and mayhem on the world. I admit that's what I actually thought was happening when Malfoy came up with such a poor argument, but it seems he had another plan."

"So what do we do."

The only thing we possibly can do. Before Sirius can be released into his family's custody, he has to complete the rite Andromeda began. He has to do this by swearing the vow of _Iure Sanguinis Funderet_ with his own blood. Until then, he's only legally bound - not magically."

"So?"

"So we have until then to get him out."

"What do you mean 'get him out'?" Harry asked suspiciously, his gaze falling on the parchment in front of Kingsley. If he wasn't mistaken, he had seen those blueprints at Christmas Mad-Eye was studying it carefully, nodding to himself.

"Exactly what you think. We have to break Sirius Black out of Azkaban - and we have to do it before next month. If we don't, he's already dead."

Mad-Eye had a maniacal gleam in his eyes as he spoke, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, if the older auror was quite right in the head. Only Mad-Eye Moody would look excited at the prospect of breaking into a high security prison, surrounded by dementors, to release a top priority prisoner, who had been convicted of several murders.

"Great," Harry sighed. "Hermione is going to kill me. This is going to play absolute havoc with my study timetable."

\\\/

I post today's update from the middle of a swamp. I'm sitting in a freezing wet tent at Download festival, and absolutely everything has been pouring with rain and swimming in mud. Just seen Slash, Motley Crue and Kiss, and thought I better post this update before I pass out in a bruised and battered heap. My friends think I'm blogging about the festival - I daren't tell them I can't possibly miss posting an update on my Harry Potter fanfiction.

Rock on, and thanks for reading.

-Cas

PS - Today marks the one month since I started writing this story. I wanted to have finished first year in a month, but the story had other ideas. Thanks for sticking with me so far


	13. Into Azkaban

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Not JKR. Too young, too poor, not enough children

\\\/

Harry told Ron, Neville and Hermione about what had conspired as soon as he returned to Hogwarts, and indeed the events of the enquiry were widely reported in the press. The pictures of Andromeda - standing in the courtroom, staring glassily - made the front page, although there was a secondary image of Harry storming out of the room, his dreadlocks flying behind him. Most people seemed to think that Sirius had gotten a better deal than he deserved, and didn't seem inclined to think any more about the matter. Cornelius Fudge was quoted in the Daily Prophet, describing the enquiry as:

" _An unnecessary public expenditure which has thankfully been concluded without the necessity of a trial with an inevitable outcome."_

Harry gritted his teeth, and imagined the statement Fudge would give when Sirius escaped from jail. The mental image of the portly man's outraged face was pleasant, and saw Harry through a lot of frustrating articles over the few weeks following the trial. Planning the escape also helped. Ron and Neville listened carefully as Harry discussed their ideas, and Ron's insight was particularly helpful.

February and march passed in a haze of plotting and planning, long days in lessons and late nights in the library: Slytherin scheming meshed with Ravenclaw research and a Gryffindor get-up-and-go attitude. Harry relayed their ideas to Mad-Eye, who turned them into a workable plan. The two adults in Harry's life had never downplayed his opinions or treated him like a child, and consequently Harry was able to give them considerable help with their plan, utilising the brainpower of his friends too.

Harry corresponded with Kingsley and Mad-Eye by owl, until Kingsley's displeasure at Harry's involvement in such a dangerous escapade became too apparent, and Harry instead wrote to him about other things. Harry's whole life, Kingsley had tried to keep him safe by protecting him - while conversely, Mad-Eye felt Harry would be safer if he learnt the hard way about danger. Harry respected Kingsley greatly, but agreed with Mad-Eye - he wasn't a child to be coddled.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than just Sirius Black. She had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all her notes. Harry was actually quite grateful, as it helped him organise his time when he had a lot on his mind. He was determined to do well in these exams. Usually he and the others were among the top ten in the year, but Harry was worried he would start to slip under multiple pressures. Neville and Ron wouldn't have minded, but Hermione kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away." Ron complained.

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it's an A."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me…"

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on them that Harry, and even Ron and Neville had no choice but to spend the Easter holidays at Hogwarts, just to get through it all. They spent most of their time in the library, practising wand movements and reciting the main components of various potions and salves.

"I'll never pass potions," Neville groaned one afternoon, throwing down his book and lying back on the grass. It was a Friday, and they had forsaken the library in favour of studying by the lake. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. Harry was studying hard, to distract himself from the night ahead - the night they were to break out Sirius.

"Yeah I reckon I'll drop out of Hogwarts and go and study dragons with Charlie," Ron agreed, sitting up and yawning.

Harry, who was stretched out on his back, staring up at the empty blue sky as he recited a list of star constellations, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Look! What's Hagrid doing?"

Harry sat up, and they all turned in the direction of Ron's stare. Hagrid was exiting the forest, with what looked like several dead rabbits slung over his shoulder, and a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand.

"Is he drinking in the middle of the day?" Hermione said uncertainly.

"He looks sober," Harry said, watching as the giant entered his hut and shut the door quickly behind him. A plume of smoke was rising from his chimney - suggesting that a hot fire was burning inside, in spite of the warm afternoon. Harry though, had too much on his mind about the night ahead, and didn't think on it further.

\\\/

That evening, Harry sat casually at the Gryffindor table with Neville during dinner. It was a clear night, and the ceiling of the great hall showed stars in a midnight sky. The whole school was used to seeing the quartet sitting at various houses, and so it didn't raise any eyebrows when Harry sat with the Gryffindors. Under the cover of knocking over the salt into a tall pile of sausages, Harry slipped Neville a flask under the table. Neville pocketed it, nodding solemnly at Harry. He looked nervous, but determined. The flask contained twelve hours worth of polyjuice potion, containing a single hair from Harry's head. Snape performed random head counts on the Slytherins, so it was important that someone took Harry's place that night, to provide an alibi.

After dinner ended, Harry pulled Neville aside into an empty classroom, and helped him hide himself under the cloak. Neville had been amazed when Harry had revealed its existence, but it also seemed to make him more nervous - as though the whole situation had suddenly become very real.

They entered the Slytherin common room together - Harry first, and Neville following closely behind under the cloak. The plan was for them to make the switch in the dormitory, and then Neville to go to sleep straight away, saying he had a headache. As they walked past the fireplace where Draco was holding court, Harry saw the blond boy toss his head haughtily.

"-so naturally father's birthday party will be a great social highlight next weekend. The minister himself is attending, and father has arranged special permission for me."

"What are you getting him Draco?" Pansy Parkinson simpered, leaning towards him.

"Oh some very expensive men's products from that shop in Diagon Alley. My owl brought them this morning," Draco said, preening. "Very high quality of course, money is no object for us." The last, with a sneer at Ron who was playing chess with Blaise at a nearby table. Ostensibly to build inter-house connections, but in fact the redhead was keeping watch in case anyone tried to enter the dormitory.

"I've got a headache Ron, I'm going to bed early," Harry said loudly.

"Okay mate, get some sleep," Ron said casually, taking out one of Blaise's pawns.

"Goodnight."

Harry rolled his eyes, and he and Neville made their way down to the boys room. Once the door was closed behind them, Neville pulled the cloak off. Harry handed him a pair of black Slytherin regulation pyjamas, and Neville disappeared into the bathroom to get changed. When he returned - looking terrified - Harry handed him back the flask.

"Are you sure this will work?" Neville quavered.

"You can do it Neville," Harry encouraged, hiding his impatience. "It'll be easy - promise."

Neville nodded determinedly, and took the flask. Taking a large gulp, he gasped and choked. Bending over, he coughed and Harry watched with fascination as dreadlocks seemed to literally shoot out of his head. Neville grew taller and thinner, his shoulders broadened and his skin darkened slightly. When he looked up at Harry, it was like looking into a mirror.

"Now _that_ shit is weird," Harry said, whistling. He walked around Neville, observing him from all sides. Neville shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"Did it work?"

"Yes!" Harry laughed. "Look in the mirror."

Neville peered nervously into the bathroom, and gasped. "I'm...you," he said in awe.

"Yep. But don't forget you need to take more potion every hour."

"Don't worry. Ron's next to me if I forget"

"Great. Right, I better get out of here," Harry said, picking up his cloak from the bed and folding it into his bag.

"Good luck!" Neville said. "Get him out, but don't get caught."

"See you in the morning"

\\\/

Harry crept quietly through the corridors, keeping his footsteps as a silent as possible. He passed a window, and looked down. Where his legs should be, there was only shadows and moonlight. It was a strange feeling. As he reached the first floor, he heard a faint _meow,_ and looked down to see Mrs Norris stalking towards him. Harry froze - could cats see through invisibility cloaks? She certainly seemed to be staring at him. Then she meowed again, and vanished.

"Phew," Harry heard a voice whisper, and he froze again. Nobody else should be around the castle at this time of night.

"She nearly had us," another voice agreed in hushed tones.

Suspicion mounting, Harry ensured his cloak was wrapped around him, and softly stole towards the source of the voices. They were coming from an empty classroom. Just as he peeped his head around the door, they spoke again.

"Look! It's Harry."

"Right outside the door."

Harry went cold. He looked down, but couldn't see anything except flagstones and dust where his legs should be. Was his cloak faulty? He stopped backwards, just as the familiar figure of one of the Weasley twins appeared in the doorway. Fred or George peered up and down the corridor, looking straight through Harry.

"He's not there George," Fred - it must be Fred - said, after a moment.

"He certainly is," George said, appearing in the doorway, holding a piece of parchment, that he was studying considered making a run for it under his cloak, but he wanted to know just how they had known he was there. He crept closer, trying to see what George was looking at. Suddenly Fred reached out and swiped a hand through the space where Harry was standing.

"Aha!" Fred cried, as he hit something solid. "Come out and show yourself little Harrikins, we know you're there."

With a sigh, Harry had no choice but to reveal himself. He pulled the cloak off his shoulders with a swirl, and smiled at the gobsmacked twins.

"Wandering around the castle at night? Naughty naughty."

"What the-" It was the first time Harry had ever seen the Weasley twins speechless. "Where did you get _that?"_ They were gesturing at his invisibility cloak, the awe and longing clear on their faces.

"I'll tell you, if you tell me how you knew I was there," Harry said quickly, stowing the cloak in his bag. The twins eyes followed it as he put it away. Fred and George looked at each other, and seemed to do a quick confab.

"Should we?"

"Nobody knows."

"If anyone knew it might as well be him."

"What if he tells the Slytherins"

"Good point."

They turned to Harry. "Do you swear not to reveal what we're about to show you to any member of Slytherin house, including Ronnie, without our permission?" Fred asked seriously.

"I swear," Harry said, amused.

"Then follow us." The twins disappeared into the empty classroom. Harry followed them, keeping his hand on his wand at all times, and making sure he could keep an eye on the door. He trusted the twins - but this was common sense. Once Fred and George had shut the door behind them, they turned to Harry, their eyes sparkling wickedly. "Right Harrikins, you first," one said.

Harry shrugged, and pulled the cloak out of his bag. "This is an invisibility cloak that belonged to my father. It's a family heirloom," he said, not wanting to go into detail. The twins sagged visibly with disappointment.

"So you didn't get it from anywhere?" They said, looking crestfallen.

"I'm afraid not."

"That's a shame," George sighed. "One of those could take us to the next level."

"Go on then - your turn - how did you know I was there?" Harry prompted.

Fred and George looked at each other, before. Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. "This Harry," George said solemnly. "Is the secret of our success."

He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study; the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was prowling the second floor; and Filch seemed to be outside, patrolling the grounds.

"Oh Merlin," Harry said, his mouth falling open. "You two have the marauders map."

"You _know_ about it?" Fred said incredulously.

"Yeah. Prongs was my dad," Harry said, carefully choosing not to reveal how he knew that

The Weasley twins gaped at him, seemingly rendered temporarily speechless. "Your dad - James Potter - was _Prongs?_ "

"Yep."

The twins looked as though all their Christmases had come at once. "Harrikins, had we known we were in the presence of such _royalty..._ "

"Oh shut it," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Do you know who the others are?" George asked excitedly.

"Yes, but I can't guarantee you'll like it. Padfoot is Sirius Black."

"You're joking!"

"Nope."

"Moony?"

"A friend of mine. His name is Remus Lupin."

"Do you think you could introduce us?" Fred pleaded, falling to his knees theatrically.

"I'll have a word," Harry promised. He was aware now of time passing, and the fact that he needed to be at the gates to meet Mad-Eye in the minutes. "Now I've got to-"

"Wormtail?"

Harry sighed. "Dead. Peter Pettigrew. Now I've really got to-"

"Peter Pettigrew isn't dead."

"What?"

"It can't be the same one," George said to Fred. "Unless they're related."

"What are you talking about?"

"Did wormtail have a son?"

"Doubt it, why?"

"Just because he might be the father of the Peter Pettigrew in Slytherin."

Harry stared. "There is no Peter Pettigrew in Slytherin."

"Yes there is. He's a first year - look. He's always with the Slytherin first years."

Harry looked at the section of the map George was pointing at. It was the first year Slytherin dormitories. _Blaise Zabini_ had a dot next to _Theodore Nott._ Then it was _Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley_ and - unmistakeably - _Peter Pettigrew._ Harry stared in disbelief.

" _No._ It _can't_ be."

"Hang on," George frowned. "What's Neville doing there?"

"Long story," Harry muttered. "Look, can you do something for me? Can you keep an eye on Pettigrew for me tonight? I have to go somewhere, but it's urgent - please."

"Alright," Fred said, looking unsettled at Harry's obvious urgency. "What's going on?"

"I can't explain just yet, but this is serious," Harry said. "Just until tomorrow, then it'll be sorted. Please?"

"Of course. We'll see if he goes anywhere," Fred agreed. "But what -"

"Thanks. I've got to go!" Harry said, throwing the cloak over himself, and dashing from the room. He was late to meet Mad-Eye, and everything about this plan depended on timing. He ran heedlessly through the halls, counting on Mrs Norris and Filch being too far away to catch him. When he reached the front doors, he found they had been left unlocked as he had been told to expect, and he threw them open, and ran down the steps and onto the grounds.

The cool night air washed over him. The grounds were bathed in moonlight, and looked both beautiful and eerie. Owls circled about the castle turrets, stretching their wings and calling to each other. All different breeds and sizes. Harry thought he even spotted Vapour for a moment, but she was gone in the blink of an eye. The sky was an endless expanse of glittering stars. Clear and perfect for what they were about to attempt.

Harry found the old caretaker Filch at the foot of the drive, inserting a large iron key into the heavy Hogwarts gates. His gaze was blank and unfocused, and he stared straight ahead, completely unaware of what he was doing. With a creak, the heavy gates swung open.

"Very good. Now go back up to the castle, leave the doors unlocked and go to bed," Harry heard a voice say from the darkness. Flich turned obediently, and walked away back towards the dark castle.

"Mad-Eye," Harry whispered in greeting. "Haven't you heard it's rude to imperiurise innocent bystanders."

"It's also rude to imprison them, but that didn't stop them with Black," Mad-Eye retorted, walking through the gates. He was wearing long black robes that didn't quite fit him, and blended into the darkness. Behind him, a female voice whispered something, and suddenly a small glow lit the air. A witch was standing behind Mad-Eye, looking at Harry with interest.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She looked young; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Hello," Harry said uncertainly. Mad-Eye had mentioned bringing a member of his department, but Harry had expected someone older.

"This is Nymphadora Tonks," Mad-Eye introduced reluctantly. "Andromeda's daughter. Prefers to be known as Tonks only."

" _Oh_ ," Harry looked at Tonks with dawning comprehension. "So you can break-"

"Yeah I can break the spell," the witch confirmed. "But I'm also helpful because it saves anyone having to take polyjuice in stage three of tonight's plan."

"What do you-"

"Enough talk!" Mad-Eye growled. "Lupin should be here any minute, and you two are making enough racket to wake the castle. And put that light out!"

Tonks rolled her eyes when Mad-Eye turned away, and Harry grinned, warming to the witch immediately. She extinguished her wand with a whispered command, and they waited in silence. There was a faint sound from the forest, and Harry strained his eyes as the noises of crackling twigs and heavy breathing came closer.

"Alastor?"

Harry recognised Lupin's voice, and relaxed. The pale skinned man stepped out of the forest. Standing between two trees behind him, their white eyes gleaming eerily, were two Thestrals, watching the whispered conversation between Lupin and Mad-Eye as though they understood every word.

"Hello," Harry whispered, moving towards them. They tossed their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and Harry stretched out his hand eagerly and patted the nearest one's shining neck. Lupin smiled at Harry in greeting. He looked exhausted, and was holding a handful of raw meat which he was using to tempt the Thestrals with. They nudged his hand, nosing around licking the stray blood from his arms, and even as Harry watched, three more stepped into view.

"Hello Harry," Lupin said with a tired smile. "Tonks, good to see you again."

"Enough chat," Mad-Eye said before Tonks could reply. "Were you followed?"

"Definitely not. I went via the shrieking shack, and I was disillusioned. Nobody could have seen me."

"Good. We should be right on time then. Pick a thestral, and lets go."

Harry wound his hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a stump nearby and scrambled clumsily on to the horse's silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and licked his hand. He found there was a way of lodging his knees behind the wing joints that made him feel more secure, then looked around at the others. Tonks had heaved herself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one leg over the creature's back. Mad-Eye was already in place, his Thestral, tossing its mane, lending an intimidating aura to his bearing.

The Thestrals did not seem to be taking to Lupin though. Although his horse was eagerly licking at the meat in the man's hand, the Thestral jerked away every time the werewolf attempted to mount it, as though it sensed the danger. "Come on," Mad-Eye growled. "We're wasting time."

Lupin eventually convinced the Thestral to let him mount, and they all tightened their knees around the skeletal horses. "Let's go!" Mad-Eye hissed.

" _Azkaban Prison, North Sea!_ "

For a moment Harry's Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horses silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a pitch black sky

Harry did not think he had ever moved so fast: the Thestral streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating; the cooling air was slapping Harry's face; eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, he looked round and saw his three fellows soaring alongside, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their Thestral to protect themselves from the wind.

They were over the Hogwarts grounds, they had passed Hogsmeade; Harry could see mountains and gullies below them. As the moon moved across the sky, Harry saw small collections of lights as they passed over more villages, then a winding road on which a single car was beetling its way home through the hills...

"This is bizarre!" Harry barely heard Tonks yell from somewhere behind him.

Only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were travelling. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around his horse's neck as he willed it to go even faster. If they weren't back to Hogwarts safely before daylight, everything would have been for nothing.

 _Come on,_ Harry thought. As if responding to his unspoken command, the Thestrals soared even faster. On they flew through the gathering darkness; Harry's face felt stiff and cold, his legs numb from gripping the Thestrals sides so tightly, but he did not dare shift his position lest he slip...he was deaf from the thundering rush of air in his ears, and his mouth was dry and frozen from the cold night wind. He had lost all sense of how far they had come; all his faith was in the beast beneath him, still streaking purposefully through the night, barely flapping its wings as it sped ever onwards.

The darkness was complete, but Harry could hear rushing waves beneath him, and taste salt in the air. They must be over the sea...Harry's stomach gave a jolt; the Thestrals head was suddenly pointing towards the ground and he actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. They were descending at last.

Pinpricks of light appeared and turned into squares of pale yellow that were two tiny windows. Quite suddenly, it seemed, they were hurtling towards a grey fortress. Harry gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of his strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow and Harry slid from its back, looking around at the terrifying place they had come to.

Tonks toppled off her Thestral with a muffled curse, but the other two men dismounted smoothly. They were standing on a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea, in what Harry could only describe as the most horrifying place he had never imagined. The very air seemed to stink of fear and death, and Harry thought he could hear faint whispers coming from the building in front of them.

The prison itself was an enormous fortress jutting out of the rock into the sky. It seemed to have been built with rough, mismatched stones, and looked as though it could date back to mediaeval times or possibly even earlier. Harry looked up, and saw rooks circling the top of the fortress high above, their shining black wings lit up by the moon's glow. There were no windows and no doors except one - an enormous metal-studded oak front door with a huge padlock - which they would have to get through.

By the left side of the building was a small graveyard: cheap headstones littering a barren stretch of earth. The guardhouse lay opposite the graveyard. Separate from the main prison, it was the only light source on the entire island. A small building made of the same stone as the prison, but with a few small windows emitting a yellow glow.

"Ready Potter?" Mad-Eye hissed. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten what came next. Pulling out his invisibility cloak from his bag, he passed it to Tonks, who looked admiringly at it.

"Always wanted one of these," she sighed, before pulling it over her shoulders and disappearing from view. Lupin had strolled away to the edge of the outcrop, and was talking to the Thestrals quietly. The werewolf's role was to stand guard, keep the Thestrals under control, and be ready to join the fight if they needed him.

Harry shivered in the nighttime chill, and wished it was part of _his_ role to wear an extra cloak like Tonks. The sea spray was coming over the edge of the cliff, and he shivered. Mad-Eye was already pulling a couple of eggcup-sized glasses from inside his cloak, which he handed to Harry, before pouring a little Polyjuice Potion into each one.

"Don't mix them up," Harry said with a wink, trying to make light of the situation. "I don't fancy being Malfoy, I think I'll pull off Fudge much better."

"Shut it you," Mad-Eye glared. "The last thing we need is someone to hear us." Chastised, Harry nodded.

"Together, then..."

Harry and Mad-Eye drank. They both gasped and grimaced as the potion hit their throats; At once, their features began to bubble and distort like hot wax. Mad-Eye was shooting upwards; Harry felt himself shrinking; Mad-Eye's hair lengthened and turned platinum blond, whilst Harry's thinned and turned grey. Patting his belly, Harry realised he was now rather rotund. Cornelius Fudge needed to get out more, Harry decided.

"Christ that's scary - I feel like I'm with the Minister of Magic now," Tonks whispered from somewhere to Harry's left.

Mad-Eye, wearing the guise of Lucius Malfoy, seemed quite unconcerned. He was now loosening the ties of the large sacks he had brought with him. When he straightened up again, he handed Harry a pinstriped cloak and a lime green bowler hat. He was already wearing the silky black robes that the Malfoy elder was often seen in.

"Ready?"

"Let's go."

They walked towards the guard house. Harry's heart was pounding. He knew how much depended on this - and on his acting skills. Summoning every ounce of confidence he possessed, he strode towards the door of the little guardhouse, and knocked sharply. He could hear voices inside, and they cut off at his knock, then started even louder. The door opened a crack.

"Minister?" A young man in a prison warden's uniform stood in the doorway, gazing at Harry in alarm.

"Good evening," Harry greeted, as though it was not unusual for the Minister of Magic to be knocking on the door of a prison in the middle of the night. He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket officiously, and handed it to the guard.

"I have brought Lord Malfoy to collect his cousin, Sirius Black."

The guard gaped at Harry for a long moment, and then the door opened fully. An older guard, with a bald head and miserable face glared at Harry, pushing the younger guard out of the way and grabbed the parchment. He scanned it warily. "Minister, we received no word of your coming," the guard said suspiciously.

"Do not question the Minister for Magic," Mad-Eye hissed behind Harry. They were prepared to take on the guards if necessary, but hoped it wouldn't come to that. Catching sight of the supposed Lord Malfoy, the guard paled.

"Yes, yes, right away minister," he agreed quickly. Harry however, saw him give a significant look to the younger guard. Harry was in no doubt that as soon as they had left the guardhouse, the younger guard would be flooing the Ministry of Magic, to check out their story. Kingsley was manning the other side of the fire at the ministry at this very moment, waiting for the call.

They made their way back across the rocky outcrop to the fortress, the older guard holding his lit wand aloft. Harry knew Tonks was following behind them - unseen and unheard. Well, mostly unheard. Harry heard the occasional scuffle, and coughed to cover it. The guard removed an enormous iron key on a hook around his neck, and inserted it into the padlock. It opened with an audible click, and the door slowly creaked open.

" _Expecto Patronum,"_ the guard cried, and a pitbull exploded from the end of his wand. The silver dog padded into the dark gaping hole in the side of the fortress where the door had been. A sweet, sickly stench drifted out. The last thing Harry wanted to do was follow the guard into the prison, but he had no choice. Trying to keep his nerves under control, he and Mad-Eye followed the guard, and entered Azkaban.

\\\/

Thanks for reading

-Cas


	14. Saving Sirius

Chapter fourteen

Disclaimer: JKR owns the messy haired awkward angsty Harry Potter that made her millions. I own the tall dreadlocked badass Harry Potter that sadly makes me fuck all.

\\\/

As they entered Azkaban Prison, Harry gripped his wand tightly. It was like entering the depths of hell. A long tunnel lay ahead of them, made of the same mismatched bricks as the outer walls. A faint unpleasant dripping noise came from somewhere unseen, and the smell was overpowering enough that - had he not already seen the graveyard -Harry might have wondered if they left dead prisoners to rot in their cells.

The interior was dark; their only source of light was the shining silver pitbull that trotted ahead, pausing occasionally to sniff the floor. It seemed particularly life-like for a patronus - an impression further reinforced when it cocked a leg briefly, urinating a silver stream of vapour onto the floor into a puddle that dissipated like mist.

"Is that normal for a patronus?" Harry whispered.

Ahead of him, the old guard seemed to overhear Harry's quiet comment. "Oh yes" he said, turning around with a nasty smile. "When you cast patronuses every day, they do tend to take on a...a life of their own, shall we say."

The guard's mood had become positively buoyant as they walked further into the fortress, and the light faded behind them. Harry wondered if all the time alone on the island had twisted the man until joy and horror were reversed for him. There was a spring in his step and a cheerfulness to his countenance that was quite at odds to their grim surroundings. Harry also kept catching sight of Lucius Malfoy walking beside him, and had to remind himself it was only Mad-Eye. He shuddered at the thought of the alternative. Being alone in Azkaban with Lucius Malfoy was now going to be among his worst nightmares. The only point in their favour was that there were no dementors in sight - the patronus seemed to be keeping them well away.

"He's just a bit further," the guard shouted cheerfully. Now the walls were lined with cells - thick iron doors with rusty barred windows. They could hear muttering from them, and an occasional wail.

"WHO ARE YOU?" A man howled from the cell closest to Harry. Harry jumped violently, springing quickly away from the cell. "HELP - HELP ME!" The voice continued, and filthy hands appeared through the bars and rattled them.

"Mind yourself minister," their guide giggled, cracking the dirty fingers sharply against the bars with a thick cane he had been carrying. There was a yelp, and the prisoner withdrew, wailing. Harry had never imagined such a place could exist in his wildest nightmares.

"Masteeeeer!" A woman's voice shrieked from the darkness. "I knew you would come! I am waiting master! I, your most faithful-"

"Shut yer trap Lestrange," the guard shouted.

"Is that my sister-in-law?" Mad-Eye asked casually, perfectly mirroring Lucius Malfoy's disdainful voice.

"Aye that's our Bella. Fancy a visit?"

"I don't visit with criminals," Mad-Eye sniffed. "Just get us Black, and don't let us tarry with the filth any longer than necessary."

"He's just up here, in our _secure_ unit."

Secure apparently meant freezing cold and pitch black. Considering their were no windows, Harry had to wonder if they kept the prisoners in the dark at all times. He noticed unlit torches mounted along the walls, and presumed they remained unlit to save on galleons. At the end of a long narrow corridor, there was a black door, with the most complex locking system Harry had ever seen. The bars over the window were rusty, and crusted with what looked like blood.

"Sirius Black," the guard said nastily, unlocking the door. "He's all yours Malfoy."

The door slowly creaked open, and they raised their wands in unison and directed them at the doorway. Slowly they peered in. There was a narrow cot at the other end of the tiny cell, padded with filthy straw. Harry had been wrong - there were windows, but they were tiny slits that couldn't be seen from the outside.

Sitting on the bed of straw dressed in rags, was Sirius Black. A thin strip of moonlight fell across the man's face. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin.

"Get up," the guard commanded roughly, striding into the cell and shaking the man. The prisoner stretched, and stood up slowly, his face taking on a slightly maniacal smile as he took in the three of them. He was manacled at his wrists and feet; rusty chains that led to a socket in the wall.

"Come to finish me off Malfoy?" Sirius Black croaked. His voice was raw and unused, but unmistakably defiant.

"I wish," Mad-Eye sneered. "You're coming with me Black. _Iure Sanguinis Funderet_ \- sound familiar?"

Black paled visibly. "Narcissa didn't-"

"Of course she didn't!" Mad-Eye hissed. "Narcissa wants you dead! No it was that other cousin of yours - the soft-hearted one."

"Oh, you mean Bellatrix?" Black rasped, and Harry marvelled at a man that still had the spirit to crack jokes after ten years of this place.

"Shut up," Mad-Eye glared. "Guard - we'd like to go quickly."

"Ah yes," the guard smiled unpleasantly. The pitbull patronus had come to rest on its hindquarters by his feet. Periodically, it wagged its tail.

"I thought we might hit this little snag,"

"Snag?" Harry said warily.

"Yes. Black is bound by several enchantment's to prevent him from leaving his cell. To remove them, I'll have to let the patronus drop. Just cast us another one, would you minister? Just like you usually do when we release a prisoner. Otherwise we'll be swarming in dementors."

Harry froze. The guard's face was smug. It was suddenly clear that he realised - or at least suspected - that they were not who they claimed to be. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Mad-Eye shift subtly to a defensive stance. Sirius Black looked intrigued by the sudden tension. But before Harry could speak or even draw his wand, the guards face suddenly stiffened and went blank. Then he crumpled to his knees, and toppled softly onto the cold stone floor - a pool of dark robes against a dark floor. The pitbull stuttered briefly and vanished, leaving only silver vapour.

" _Expecto Patronum,"_ Mad-Eye said hastily, and a large silver boar burst from the end of his wand, lighting up the room once more.

"Phew," Tonks said, pulling Harry's invisibility cloak off her shoulders with a twirl. "It was getting a bit hot under there. Hey, Mad-Eye, can I cast a patronus too? I don't fancy a trip down misery lane tonight. Between that clown on the floor, and crazy Aunt Bella, I don't really feel up to it."

Sirius looked thunderstruck, staring at Tonks as though he thought he was hallucinating. "Nymphadora?" He said uncertainly, staring at the violet-haired young auror. All his arrogant bluster had disappeared. His eyes flickered warily to the figure of Lucius Malfoy beside her.

"It's _Tonks_. But nice to see you again cousin."

"What's going on?"

"We're getting you out," Harry explained, leaning down to inspect the guard. "What was it Tonks? A stunner?"

"Yep."

"Nice work. Got the potion Mad-Eye?"

Mad-Eye pulled out the last flask of polyjuice, and passed it to Harry. Sirius looked bewildered. "Mad-Eye?" He said faintly, looking at the blond, aristocratic face of Lucius Malfoy.

"That's right," Moody growled.

"Then who's that?" Sirius said weakly, gesturing at Harry.

Harry straightened up. He had unfastened and removed the unfortunate guard's outer robe. Passing the robe to Tonks, he smiled at Sirius. "Harry Potter," he said casually. "Good to meet you at last, godfather."

\\\/

The trip back was one of the most bizarre Harry had ever experienced. They handed Sirius the invisibility cloak, but advised him not to put it on until they were nearly at the exit. They locked the unconscious guard in the cell behind them. Harry was relieved that the guard had been so unpleasant - otherwise they might have felt considerably guiltier about leaving him behind for an indeterminate amount of time.

Tonks strained, until her features matched those of the guard, and she grew taller and broader. Then she pulled on the robe and cloak of an Azkaban Prison guard. Looking very much the part, they headed for the exit - Mad-Eye's silver boar leading the way. Every doorway they passed through shone brightly with magic as Sirius walked through.

"It's only because of Tonks that we can leave," Mad-Eye explained. "When Andromeda bound Sirius with _Iure Sanguinis Funderet_ , she unwittingly allowed any member of his family to magically break through the enchantments binding him to this place."

"Lucky you knew a member of his family then," Harry commented.

Sirius said nothing. He was panting with exertion at the fast walk, and seemed overwhelmed.

As they reached the forked corridor where two different paths converged, the shrieking started again. MAAASTERERR!" Bellatrix Lestrange howled from somewhere in the prison.

"Bellatrix," Sirius said softly, coming to a halt. Harry tugged on the man's arm, but he was standing stock still and refused to move. Then he turned and began walking determinedly towards the source of the noise.

" _No!_ " Harry said, looking helplessly at Mad-Eye and Tonks.

"Black, get back here," growled Mad-Eye.

"Come _on_ Sirius, we haven't got long!" Tonks chimed in.

"I'll kill her," Sirius hissed, staring down the empty corridor into the blackness. "I might never get another chance to kill her."

"You can't! You don't even have a wand."

"I'll use my bare hands if I have to," Sirius growled.

"That's enough!" Mad-Eye said abruptly, striding over to Sirius. Grabbing the younger man by the arm, he marched him towards the exit. "We've only got fifteen minutes until the polyjuice wears off - we're out of here."

Sirius capitulated regretfully, and they continued. They could see the doorway just up ahead, and through the doorway, the midnight sky scattered with stars. They had almost made it out. However, something else was happening. As they drew closer to the exit, the darkness seemed to grow until it reached a suffocation pitch. Then a chill stole up Harry's neck. It started slowly, but increased. The silver boar up ahead flickered, then reappeared. But its outline was more indistinct.

Harry felt the unnatural cold begin to steal over the corridor. Light was sucked from the environment right up to the stars, which vanished. The cold was biting deeper and deeper into Harry's flesh...Then, around the corner, gliding noiselessly, came Dementors, ten or more of them, visible because they were of a denser darkness than their surroundings, with their black cloaks and their scabbed and rotting hands. Could they sense fear in the vicinity? Harry was sure of it: They seemed to be coming more quickly now, taking those dragging, rattling breaths he detested, tasting despair on the air, closing in —

" _Expecto Patronum!_ " Tonks cried, and a rabbit burst from the end of her wand, gliding through the air and scattering the dementors. Sirius had fallen to his knees.

"No," he moaned, clutching his hair wildly. "No!"

"COME ON!" Mad-Eye roared, yanking Sirius to his feet and propelling him down the corridor towards the door. The dementors parted before the patronuses, but gathered again the moment they were past. Suddenly Harry saw a white face appear in the tunnel entrance. It was the first guard, the younger one. He looked panicked as they sprinted down the corridor towards him.

They burst out into the starry night, the boar and the rabbit moving in a circle around them, keeping the dementors at bay.

"What happened," the younger guard gasped, as the dementors began pouring out of the prison. Ten, twenty, a hundred of them. " _Ex-expecto Patronum!"_

Only vapour appeared from the young man's wand. "Marius!" He cried, looking at Tonks, still disguised as the older guard. "Marius what happened?" Then his eyes registered the rabbit patronus. "Who are you?" He wailed. A dementor paused in its path, and turned hopefully towards the guard. It glided towards him eagerly. Harry felt sick with horror, and helpless. Suddenly insisting on coming on this mission seemed downright foolhardy.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ Another voice bellowed. A shining silver wolf was amongst them. A shining wolf that charged the dementors, chasing away the one that had been attacking the guard. The boar, the wolf and the rabbit between them could withstand the dementors. They stood, creating a shining silver oasis, surrounded on all sides by what seemed to be nearly a thousand dementors. The wraiths hovered in the air, by the edges of the silver light, waiting eagerly. Their scabbed hands stretched out hopefully every time there was a dip in the silver light.

Remus, Mad-Eye and Tonks stood in a triangle around the perimeter of the courtyard, their wands out as they directed their patronuses Harry and Sirius crouched over the guard, who had fallen to the ground in a dead faint. "What do we do?!" Harry shouted, over the crashing of the waves. It had begun to rain, and the freezing water drilled into them from above. Still, the dementors hovered. Waiting.

"Get to the Thestrals!" Remus shouted into the wind.

"What about the guard?"

"Leave him! Save yourselves!"

"He'll die!" Harry screamed.

"POTTER IF WE DON'T GET OUT OF HERE WE'LL ALL DIE," Mad-Eye shouted furiously. "NOW GET THE DAMN HORSES."

With one last tortured look at the guard, Harry pulled himself to his feet. "Stay here!" He directed at Sirius, who nodded. Sirius was staring at Remus with wide eyes, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Harry broke through the protective circle, and in seconds felt the dehabilitating cold seep into him. He could see the four Thestrals on the edge of the rocky outcrop. They were being soaked by the waves, but seemed quite unconcerned as they nosed the ground. Harry wound his fingers into the mane of the nearest one, and began tugging it towards the triangle. "Come on," he hissed. The Thestrals seemed to understand him, and began moving towards the others. Slowly, too slowly. Harry felt scabbed hands reaching for him, caressing him, and rotting breath.

Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very 's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder...And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't... a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him -

"Come on, get on! Wake UP!" Someone shouted, shaking Harry. Harry looked up into the eyes of Mad-Eye Moody. The cold had receded, and they were bathed in a silver glow. Somehow, the patronuses seemed to have driven the dementors back inside the prison. The three patronuses stood guard over the doorway to Azkaban where the young guard was shakily locking the great iron doors securely.

"Get up Potter!" Mad-Eye growled, the gruff voice not disguising his concern.

Looking around, Harry saw Tonks on a Thestral already, and Sirius and Remus riding double on another. Remus seemed to be holding Sirius upright. Harry pulled himself to his feet wearily, feeling the cold in his bones. How he managed to get on his Thestral he would never know, but he somehow scrambled onto its back, and settled himself between the wing joints. Mad-Eye pushed Harry's invisibility cloak into his hands.

"All set!" Mad-Eye roared. "Tonks - you take Potter back to Hogwarts. I've got to get Black out of the country before they start looking for him."

"Got it!" Tonks called. "See you in the next life!"

" _Hogwarts castle!"_

Harry's Thestral rose into the air. With a beating of wings and a rush of freezing air, they were off - leaving the grim fortress and the dementors behind.

Harry fell asleep on the journey back. Chilled to the bone and exhausted by the events of the night, he nodded off on the back of the Thestral. The next thing he knew, then were touching down lightly at the foot of the Hogwarts gates. Tonks dismounted gracelessly beside Harry and helped him off as he stumbled. The light was just beginning to peer over the edge of the horizon - they had made it back just in time.

"You alright from here Potter?" Tonks asked, looking concerned.

"I'll be fine," Harry nodded. He felt shaky, but nothing sleep and breakfast wouldn't fix. "Don't worry about me. You get back."

"Alright. Look after yourself. I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"Most likely. Are you going to meet Mad-Eye and Sirius?"

"No. They're going to be out of the country for a while until Black recovers. Someone has to stay in the auror office and hear what's going on."

"Good luck."

"Later Potter." With that, Tonks turned on the spot and disapparated with a _crack._ The Thestrals had already disappeared silently into the trees. With a sigh, Harry pushed open the gates and re-entered the school. He had just under an hour to make it back into Slytherin and relieve Neville.

\\\/

"Harry, we need a word," one of the Weasley twins hissed in his ear. It was the morning after the escape, and the news of Sirius Black's escape from a high security cell in Azkaban Prison hadn't broken to the public yet. Neville had returned to Gryffindor tower slightly the worse for wear after a nervous night, and Harry had been keeping an eye out for the Weasleys ever since. He couldn't see anyone unusual in the dormitory - and certainly no Peter Pettigrew. He needed to find out where the mysterious man was.

"Meet me in room ten at lunchtime," Harry murmured back. He was so tired he could barely keep his head up. Pepperup potion had helped, but he still felt as though he was walking through a haze of exhaustion after the events of the previous night. Over breakfast he had told Ron and the others what had happened in whispers, and they had stared at him in amazement. Neville looked sick when Harry had mentioned seeing Bellatrix, and Harry immediately felt contrite for mentioning it.

"Sirius wanted to kill her right then and there," Harry commented. "And we would have done, if it hadn't been for the dementors. We had to get out fast though."

"I'm glad you didn't," Neville said his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "One day I'm going to kill her myself." He said it so coldly and matter of factly that they all paused to stare at him.

"That will be a day to celebrate, my friend," Harry said after a moment, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I will," Neville insisted a little wildly.

"We believe you Neville," Hermione said, looking slightly frightened.

\\\/

Harry met the Weasley twins at lunchtime as promised. They were waiting for him in the classroom already, the map spread out on a desk in front of them. They peered anxiously at him as he arrived, and double-checked something on the map.

"We should be fine. Filch is miles away," one of them said.

"We're allowed to be here," Harry said, amused.

"We're not allowed to be _anywhere_ according to Filch."

"Can't imagine why."

"Us neither. Now let's not get sidetracked."

"Peter Pettigrew?"

"Not in the dormitory any longer."

"Where is he?" Harry asked anxiously.

"He went with the other Slytherin first years. He's sitting having lunch with them now, look here."

Harry leaned over the map. The great hall was clearly visible, and packed with little moving dots with names above them. The dot labelled _Peter Pettigrew_ was easy to find - right between Ron and Daphne Greengrass. Overnight Harry had half wondered if he had imagined it. The flight had happened so fast he hadn't been able to mention it to anyone, not even Mad-Eye - and Sirius had been in no fit shape to discuss conspiracy theories. Harry wondered if Peter Pettigrew had an invisibility cloak too. But then that wouldn't explain why nobody had noticed a solid invisible human sitting next to them.

"He wasn't actually there," Harry said, frustrated.

"We could try and catch him for you?" One of the twins suggested hopefully. Harry thought it was George.

"Yes," Fred said, picking up where his brother left off. "Actually Harrikins, we had a proposition for you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. You see-"

"After last night, we couldn't help but think-"

"How useful it must be to have an invisibility cloak."

"Such mischief to be wrought."

"So many pranks."

"The possibilities become endless."

"Go on," Harry said slowly.

"So we wondered-"

"If perhaps-"

"We could come to a deal," Fred finished, flourishing his hand at the map.

"We want to pool our resources."

"Pool our resources?" Harry said slowly, looking warily at the two trouble-makers, who both looked positively gleeful.

"Yes Harrikins. You can use the map whenever you need it, if we can borrow the cloak sometimes."

Harry considered it. "Oh dear Merlin," he groaned, dropping his head in his hands. The prospect of the Weasley twins in possession of an invisibility cloak was terrifying. Just the thought of the mayhem they could wreak was sobering. One thing was sure - there would never be a dull moment at Hogwarts again.

"Alright," Harry said at last. "But no using it for anything inappropriate. Harmless pranks only."

"You wound us Harry!" Fred exclaimed, clutching his hand to his breast. "Would we ever?"

"Undoubtably," Harry sighed. "Now I want to catch up on some sleep. Can you tell me if there's anyone in my dormitory at the moment?"

"Draco Malfoy"

"Great," Harry sighed. "Probably gift-wrapping the expensive men's products for daddy's birthday next week."

It was only a throwaway comment, but Harry almost saw the wheels start turning in Fred and George's heads. Their eyes took on a gleam, and it was scary to watch the wickedness take root. "Harry," George said, ever so casually. "You know our deal?"

"Yes..."

"Well...I don't suppose we could borrow the cloak this lunchtime? It's just...this might be the only opportunity we have to prank Lucius Malfoy _ever._ "

"What opportunity?"

"The men's products," Fred said blissfully. "So many things we could put in there..."

Harry sighed deeply. He was going to refuse - say it was too risky. Then an image of Lucius Malfoy's smirking face at the trial as he attempted to have Sirius released into his custody swam lazily to the top of Harry's mind. "Alright." He said suddenly, surprising himself. "Do it."

\\\/

It took a week for the news of Sirius's escape to break the news. It seemed that the Azkaban guards were only required to check in once a week, and their absence had finally been noted. The news story was designed to create panic:

SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN

 _Mass-murderer Sirius Black reported missing from Azkaban Prison - dead prison guard found locked in his cell._

 _Was it dark magic taught to him by his old master that helped Sirius Black escape the top security wizarding Prison on earth? And how do the ministry intend to recapture this dangerous prisoner? Those are the questions on everyone's lips as your reporter waits for more information outside the ministry this morning. Black was only days away from being freed when he made his escape, and the Wizarding community is flummoxed as to how he managed it. Rumours of Lord Lucius Malfoy and the Minister for Magic himself being involved have been heavily denied by the Wizengamot. However, another guard on duty at Azkaban that night said he clearly saw the two prestigious members of our community escaping with the prisoner in tow._

 _We were unable to reach either of the men for comment this morning. Albus Dumbledore stopped for a few word with us as he headed into the ministry this morning._

 _"It is a sad day in our society, when a man who has never been proven guilty, feels that escape and possible death is a preferred option than release into the hands of his family," Dumbledore told us. "Perhaps this lesson can be a stepping stone to changing our justice system for the better."_

 _Public are warned that Black is extremely dangerous, and should not be approached for any reason. Should Black be sighted, immediately contact the Ministry of Magic._

Harry, however, had more reason to panic. The morning that the news story broke, Peter Pettigrew disappeared off the Marauders Map.

"Fuck!" He swore, after scanning the map thoroughly with Ron for several minutes. "He's not there!"

"Language Harry," Hermione chastised. They were bent over their books in the library, ostensibly studying for their exams. Harry was doing his best,but struggled when he had so many other things on his mind. He had written to Mad-Eye immediately with word of Peter Pettigrew's sudden appearance, but had been unable to contact the man. Mad-Eye had mentioned that he was talking Sirius abroad to recover out of sight of the ministry. It was likely that he had also made them unplottable so the ministry owls couldn't find them. Harry hadn't thought about how he would be unable to contact the old auror in an emergency. He wrote to Kingsley also, but the younger man was wary of doing anything rash without checking in with Mad-Eye first.

"What are we going to do," Harry groaned. "Pettigrew could have been our one chance to prove Sirius's innocence."

"He must have seen the story," Neville piped up. He was buried under a large pile of books that Hermione had piled around him, desperately trying to cram some last minute information into his head.

"I guess all we can do is watch out in case he comes back," Harry sighed.

\\\/

The following morning, Harry rose at his usual time to go for a jog around the castle. Ron had asked if he could join Harry in a fit of pre-summer quidditch fitness, and the two boys set off at an easy pace. It was a bright spring morning, and incongruous flowers had begun to bloom around the edges of the forbidden forest. As they came into view of Hagrids hut, they noticed a plume of smoke rising into the air.

"Shall we go and say hello to Hagrid?" Harry suggested on the spur of the moment.

When they knocked on the door there was a great scuffling inside, and a crash as something was knocked to the ground. "Hagrid?" Harry called awkwardly. "It's just us. Sorry if we disturbed you, we thought you might be awake."

"Oh its you two," Hagrid said gruffly, opening the door a crack and peering through. "Anyone else with yeh?"

"Just us,"

"Alrigh' alrigh' come in. Be quick mind."

It was was stifling hot inside, and all the curtains were still drawn. Hagrid made them tea and offered them rock cakes, which they refused, claiming they could eat at breakfast. They fell into a companionable silence as they sipped the hot tea. Harry and Ron were sweating after their run though, and the room was becoming unbearably hot. "Any chance we could open a window in here Hagrid?" Harry asked. "It's boiling."

"Ah, no can do Harry," Hagrid said nervously. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?" But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er…"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Few nights ago. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"Hagrid where on earth are you going to put it?" Harry asked, alarmed. "You're not keeping it in here, surely?"

"Ah well, there's always the forest. An' when he gets too big, there's a little cave up on the nearby mountain over there. I thought the wee one could spend a bit of time there when he's big enough."

"That's actually...not a terrible idea," Ron said thoughtfully. "Dragons like caves."

"An' there's lotsa rats an' other animals for him," Hagrid said eagerly, warming to the subject.

'What else do dragons need?" Harry said curiously.

"Ah well," Hagrid said knowledgeably. "Lotsa fire in the early days, and small rodents and things to eat. Easy to get. When they get a bit bigger, they're fairly self sufficient."

"Is this cave far enough away from the castle?" Harry asked warily.

"Oh its a way past Hogsmeade. Ridgebacks don't hunt humans anyway, when he gets bigger he'll move into the forests looking for bigger prey."

"A dragon. Unbelievable," Harry said with a sigh. "What's with this place? Cerberus one day, dragon the next..."

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid said.

"...Fluffy?"

Hagrid looked suddenly nervous as though he had said something he shouldn't have. "Ah its jus' you mentioned a Cerberus, tha's all."

"You mean the one guarding the philosopher's stone on the third floor? Harry interrupted. Hagrid stared.

"How do you know about the philosophers stone?" He said, looking gobsmacked. "Students aren't supposed to know 'about it!"

"My family know Nicholas Flamel" Harry said, not offering any other explanation. It seemed to mollify Hagrid though, who looked thoughtful.

"Good man Nicholas. Met him once when he came to see Dumbledore. Had a great chat about unicorn blood and using it in alchemy."

"Isn't it a crime to collect unicorn blood?" Harry asked warily.

"Aye. Greatest sin of all. Unless the unicorn gives it of its own free will, that is."

"Do unicorns often?"

"Never in living memory. In fact something's been killin' the school ones lately, it's got Dumbledore an' me real worried. I've been finding dead ones on the forest. Tis a monstour thing, to kill a unicorn."

"Someone's been killing unicorns?" Ron said, looking horrified.

"Someone. Or something."

\\\/

Thanks for reading

Incidentally I had a reviewer who felt that dreadlocks didn't work on white guys unless they were "stoners, or insane." I've had dreadlocks for years, and I'm a straight-edge white girl. Opinions? I think we can all do what we like with our hair.

Oh and I also had a review calling my characters OOC. Well, of course. Events shape people, and my characters are experiencing things the original characters didn't experience. Therefore, they will be slightly different. The differences will become more pronounced as time goes on.

-Cas


	15. Letters, lizards and -- lust potion?

Chapter fifteen

Disclaimer: Not JKR. Don't own the characters. But I've been doing something with this story, where I try and match up as closely with her timeline as possible - ie, finish first year with the same amount of words she used for the first book (just over 76,000, although I'm going to run over a bit) and the same number of chapters, (17). Theoretically, at any point in my story, you should be able to go to the same chapter of the Philosophers Stone and find the corresponding canon month. Sort of. And it's forced me to look really closely at how she structures her chapters and story, and it's just so _good._ Considering I usually just read fanfiction - to go back to the original HP story and look at how it's actually put together, is a fascinating and humbling process. As usual, worshipping at the altar of the beloved JKR.

\\\/

As their exams approached, Harry had more on his mind than ever before. Between the egg in Hagrid's cabin and Peter Pettigrew, Harry felt he was constantly scanning the twin's map for threats, or dashing off to see Hagrid. It would have helped if he could have contacted Mad-Eye about it all, but the auror was still out of the country with Sirius

The panic over Sirius Black escaping jail had caught Britain in its throes. Once the news broke in the Daily Prophet, there was no escaping the fear that gripped the wizarding nation. Harry hadn't been old enough during the first war to understand the kind of terror that death eaters had inspired, and so seeing the public respond to what they believed to be an escaped death eater, was a sobering feeling.

"There's never been a breakout from Azkaban before," Susan Bones said seriously in Herbology, the morning the news first broke. "Nobody knows how he did it."

Harry looked studiously down at the pufflepod he was packing fertiliser around, trying not to look as though he was listening too closely.

"Does your Aunt know anything?" Hannah Abbot asked curiously.

"I don't think so," Susan said. "Not that I'm really allowed to ask. But they don't seem to have any idea."

Interviews appeared in popular Wizarding magazines with the youngest guard - the only guard to survive that night. The last minute memory charm Mad-Eye had placed on him seemed to have scrambled his brains a little however, and the only thing he could remember was letting Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge enter the prison. He insisted to anyone who would listen that it was all a conspiracy, and within days, Fudge had filed charges of defamation.

Draco Malfoy was having a particularly hard time of it. All the other houses were convinced his father was responsible, and he was harassed constantly in the corridors. If he hadn't been so unpleasant, Harry might have felt slightly sorry for him.

"This has all happened right after father's birthday too," Malfoy seethed in the common room later that evening. "Naturally we are seeking damages for the insult to our family name, and of course father was accounted for the night of the escape, but it's just so ridiculous!"

"You're father wouldn't have had any reason to help Black," Blaise Zabini said. "After all, your family was supposed to get Black anyway."

"Exactly!" Malfoy hissed, seeming pleased at the attention he was drawing. Pansy Parkinson was hanging onto every word, fluttering her eyelashes. Crabbe and Goyle didn't look particularly interested, but Harry suspected that had more to do with their lack of cognitive function than lack of interest.

After a rocky start, by the end of the year the Slytherin first years had divided into three distinct camps. They were a large year group, with ten of them - more than any other house. One one side of the divide was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. On the other side was Harry and Ron, with their friends in other houses. Somewhere in the middle, being the perfect ambiguous Slytherins, were Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Harry didn't trust them in the slightest, but couldn't deny that without their warning to act fast, Sirius might not even be alive.

Blaise and Theodore cornered Harry a few nights later, when the dormitory was deserted except for the three of them. Harry was sitting on his bed penning a letter to Kingsley, when he registered Theodore closing the door firmly, and locking it. Harry's hand immediately dropped to his wand.

"Calm down," Blaise said lazily, from where he was reclining on his bed. "We're not going to hurt you."

"What do you want," Harry said warily.

"We know you helped Black escape," Blaise said, as though commenting on the weather.

"What are you talking about," Harry said, keeping his face blank while his heart raced.

"We know. We know you were acting on our tip off, and we know that you weren't here that night - you were breaking him out of Azkaban."

"You have no proof." Harry said coolly.

"We do," Theodore said from the door, sniggering slightly

"Oh really. What?"

"You don't snore. Whoever pretended to be you that night - they did."

Harry barely suppressed a groan. _Neville snores._ How could he have known? And how could anybody have picked up on that as proof that it wasn't him?

"That's no proof," Harry said bravely.

"Say what you want," Blaise said, sliding off the bed. "But we know. We helped you - and now you owe us. When we need information, we'll come to collect it."

With that, he and Theodore left the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. All Harry could muse, was how even the best laid plans set before he came to Hogwarts, could disintegrate in the face of real people and real life situations. Sometimes it seemed it was all he could to to keep afloat amongst the crashing waves.

"Have you seen Scabbers?" Ron interrupted, stomping into the dormitory and peering under beds.

"Nope, said Harry, distracted by his thoughts and not paying attention.

"He's missing!" Ron groaned. "And there's going to be a bloody dragon running around the place soon!"

\\\/

Hermione had been horrified when Harry and Ron told her about Hagrid's new pet. She had been all for storming down to his hut and lecturing him on the laws he was breaking, but Harry and Ron managed to talk her around a little. They had a conversation in furious whispers at the back of their Defence against the Dark Arts class.

"He's not stupid Hermione - he knows how to look after it," Ron soothed.

"He lives in a wooden hut though!" Hermione fretted.

Harry was inclined to agree with Ron. Hagrid seemed to have a reasonable plan to keep the little dragon in the forest, and then move it to a cave when it for too big.

"But it's _illegal,"_ Hermione said, as though that explained everything.

"The law isn't always right Hermione,'" Harry reminded her as they gathered their belongings at the end of class. "Remember?"

Hermione sighed and nodded, putting her books in her bag. Harry had noticed that Hermione had a tendency to do everything by the book, and he hoped that by debating with her, he could open the Ravenclaw girls mind to the concept that books didn't know everything, the law wasn't always right, and sometimes you had to make your own mind up about exams only weeks away though, they didn't have much opportunity for debate.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving Ron nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: _It's hatching._

Ron wanted to skip first lesson and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—"

"Hermione," Neville interrupted. "How many times do you think Hagrid will ever have the opportunity to raise a dragon in his life?"

"Probably never," Hermione said, looking confused.

"Exactly. And he's dreamed about this for how long? He's got a solid plan of action too. Let the man have his day, let him raise his dragon."

"But it's so _dangerous._ "

"Shut up Hermione," Ron interrupted, exasperated.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to first lesson and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other three during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the four of them dropped their quills at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

"I reckon this one should be a foot long in a week," Hagrid beamed proudly. "I've got him lots of brandy and rodents, and a nice little place in the forest for when he's a bit bigger."

"Can we see Hagrid?" Neville asked rapturously. He looked delighted by the little dragon.

"Tell yeh what, when it's time to move him, yeh can come," Hagrid agreed.

The week passed in a blur. They spent most of their time in Hagrid's darkened hut, keeping him company as he fed the dragon a noxious looking mixture of chicken blood and brandy. Once Hermione got over her initial outrage and accepted that they were keeping the dragon, she became a surprisingly helpful source of information.

"You need to start putting him onto live rats soon Hagrid," Hermione informed the giant knowledgeably, "or he won't thrive properly."

"When did she get so enthusiastic?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"I told her that she might never get the chance to study a real dragon again, and highlighted how useful their properties were in almost every branch of Magic," Neville whispered to them, looking pleased with himself.

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

The dragon hissed and snapped.

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

Hagrid was bustling busily in a crate on the table, full of terrified rats. With a pleased exclamation, he pulled a fat brown one out by the tail and presented it to Norbert. The dragon snapped greedily at the rat, breaking its neck between his jaws and then scoffing the rest whole. Ron shuddered delicately.

\\\/

A week later even Hagrid had to admit it was time to move Norbert to the forest. The baby dragon had grown to almost fill Hagrids hut. He was eating rats by the crate load, and every time he waved his tail it shattered something. The final straw came when they arrived to help Hagrid one evening and found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail. Hagrid opened a window to talk to them.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

"Come on Hagrid, you've got to move him out soon," Harry said persuasively.

Hagrid's eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin' — he's only a baby, after all. Yeah I reckon yeh right. I was thinkin' of takin' him teh the forest on Saturday."

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. The four of them walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to take Norbert out to the forest if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"I thought it was best to keep him in there 'til we're well away from the hut," Hagrid said tearfully. "Or he might get upset that I'm makin' him leave."

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at each other. Hermione patted Hagrid on the arm sympathetically. "You'll see him every day Hagrid," she reassured.

"I know," Hagrid sniffed. "But still..."

As they hefted the crate between them, Hagrid seemed to rally. Norbert was heavy, and even with the giant, it took all four of them to support his weight comfortably.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday."

"Who would kill a unicorn?" Hermione gasped.

"That's wha' I need to find out," Hagrid said grimly. "But it means we need teh be careful tonight."

"Is it safe to bring Norbert out here?" Neville said warily.

"We got no other choice."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Hagrid led them to the left. The path was becoming increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as they walked further and further into the Forest that it was as dark as midnight. But Harry felt no sense of unease until Hagrid stepped unexpectedly off the path and began wending his way in and out of trees towards the dark heart of the Forest.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, fighting his way through thickly knotted brambles, over which Hagrid had stepped with ease, and remembering very vividly what had happened to him on the other occasion he had stepped off the Forest path. "Where are we going?"

"Bit further," said Hagrid over his shoulder. "C'mon, Harry . . . we need ter keep together now. Is Norbert alright?"

"I think he's asleep."

The dragon was emitting sparks as it snored lightly, the sparks shining brightly in the pitch black. It was a great struggle to keep up with Hagrid, what with branches and thickets of thorn through which Hagrid marched as easily as if they were cobwebs, but which snagged the other's robes, frequently entangling them so severely that they had to stop for minutes at a time to free themselves. Harry's arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. Carrying Norbert awkwardly between them made their arms ache and they tripped frequently.

They were so deep in the Forest now that sometimes all Harry could see of Hagrid in the gloom was a massive dark shape ahead of him. Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused Harry to peer through the gloom for a culprit.

"Hagrid, would it be alright if we lit our wands?" said Hermione quietly.

"Er . . . all righ'," Hagrid whispered back.

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path. Hagrid stopped suddenly and turned around; Hermione walked right into him and was knocked over backwards. Harry caught her just before she hit the Forest floor.

"Oh sorry Hermione," Hagrid said sheepishly. "We're jus' about here."

In front of them was a small clearing. Moonlight filtered through the trees overhead and lit up the ground A bare patch of earth surrounded by heaps of trunks and boughs that formed a kind of fence or barricade, behind which the five of them stood. Harry, Ron and Neville put down Norbert's cage with a sigh, stretching their aching muscles. The dragon snorted at the jolt, and hissed at them.

"I thought he'd like it here," Hagrid said hopefully. "There's lots of birds and rats for him, an' he can practice spreadin' his wings a bit."

"Will he fly away?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nah. Not if I keep bringin' him food out here. An' I brought his favourite blankets and teddy so he won't be lonely. It's far away enough from the school that he shouldn't be able to wander back that way."

Hagrid hefted Norbert's cage into his arms and lifted it over the barricade. The four of them watched in silence as the giant opened the crate. Norbert stalked out, and sniffed at the earth. He spread his wings, banged his tail against the bare earth and seemed to like the sensation. Hagrid wiped his eyes, and busied himself arranging blankets, a teddy bear in several pieces, and a few plump dead rats.

"Mummy will be back soon Norbert," Hagrid said shakily, roughly brushing a hand across his eyes. "Mummy will bring more rats tomorrow!"

Hermione patted Hagrid on the shoulder sympathetically. "It's the best place for him Hagrid. Look how happy he is."

Indeed, Norbert seemed very happy. He had explored the clearing, and curled himself up on the pile of blankets. He was chewing contentedly on a rat, his dark beady eyes fixed on Hagrid.

They left the clearing in single file, Hagrid leading the way. They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder.  
He had the nasty feeling they were being watched. He was very glad they had Hagrid and his crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

There were splashes of unicorn blood on the roots of a tree, as though the creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. The blood looked thicker than before. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look —" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Neville. They all paused at the edge of the clearing, staring in silence. Hagrid let out a groan.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered… Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry and the other four stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"WHAT DO YEH THINK YER DOIN'" Hagrid thundered, raising his crossbow.

The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at them — unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. Hagrid took a step towards it, and it paused. Harry had the horrible feeling it was looking at him. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the figure. Behind him, he sensed rather than saw Ron, Neville and Hermione do the same.

The figure paused for a long moment, and then disappeared into the thick forest. Hagrid fired into the trees after the figure, but he was a moment too late and his bolt fell short, thudding into the earth.

"Scum!" Hagrid growled, moving forward to kneel by the unicorn, tenderly stroking its mane. "Ruddy evil scum!"

"What was that?" Hermione quivered. She sounded close to tears.

"I don' know," Hagrid grunted. "But whatever it was, it didn' belong here. Luckily I can' see it bein' too interested in Norbert."

It took Harry and Ron the whole trip back to the Slytherin common room to stop shivering. They couldn't talk as they entered the common room, but exchanged significant glances.

The next morning they met Hermione and Neville in the library.

"It had to be Snape," Ron said immediately. "Snape was trying to get to the stone. Unicorn's blood does the same thing - it's a life elixir."

"I'm not so sure," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Professor Snape is much taller than the person in that cloak was."

"You were paying _that_ much attention," Ron said incredulously.

Harry said nothing. He was penning a letter to Mad-Eye, outlining the events of the night. That very morning, he had received his first missive from the man since the night of the prison break. Although it was only weeks ago, between the dragon and the hooded figure in the forest it felt as though much more time had passed.

 _Potter,_ Mad-Eye had written, once the letter was unlocked and decoded.

 _Tonks informed us that you returned safe and well. Black and I are out of the country in a location I won't disclose in case this falls into the wrong hands. Black has much recovering to do, but is improving. The summer is only a few weeks away, and we will be seeing each other then. There are many things you need to know, but none of them are safe to put in writing. Rest assured though - Black has proven his innocence beyond doubt. You have a dedicated godfather, who wishes to make up for ten years apart._

 _I must commend you on your actions that night. You did myself and Kingsley proud. For the remainder of the year, concentrate your focus on securing your allegiances and making plans to continue them over the summer._

 _We will be in further contact soon._

 _Mad-Eye_

Harry folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. There were too many questions he needed answering, and the letter provided none of them. He felt slightly annoyed that Mad-Eye's paranoia had stopped the man from providing more information.

"Everything alright?" Neville asked quietly. The other boy was good at picking up on things that others missed.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Sirius is okay. They're out of the country though, and Mad-Eye can't tell me where."

Harry knew he sounded petulant, but he wasn't used to being kept out of the loop. His entire life he had been involved in everything Mad-Eye and Kingsley came up with, and it was hard to feel left out - even if it was for Sirius's safety. He decided that this summer he was going to make sure they found more secure method of communication.

"What are you lot planning?" A voice came from behind them. Harry turned, just as Fred and George dropped into the seats beside them.

"Nothing," Ron and Hermione chorused.

"Do we believe them Fred?"

"Absolutely not George."

"Anyway Harrikins, we've got something for you."

"Ah."

Fred looked to the right and left, and quickly pushed Harry's cloak into his hands. "Been meaning to get this back to you."

Harry sighed deeply. "What did you do?"

"Well," George smirked. "Let's just say that the Lady Malfoy might be getting a surprise sometime soon."

"What did you put in the products," Harry said warily.

"Lust potion. Malfoy's mum won't know what hit her when Malfoy senior gets home."

Ron snorted violently, and Harry and Neville burst out laughing. Hermione's face had gone pink. "Is that legal?!" She squeaked.

"Only if you don't tell," George winked.

"The fact that you two can go anywhere in the school undetected now is terrifying," Hermione muttered.

Fred tapped his nose. "Miss Granger, it's important that the student body receives some light-hearted relief from their studies, on occasion."

"And you think _you_ ought to be the ones to create that relief?"

"It is both an honor and a duty. We all have our cross to bear," George sighed dramatically. Neville and Ron looked confused, while Hermione frowned.

"Where in earth did you hear _that_ expression in the Wizarding world?"

The twins got to their feet, and picked up their bags. "That, Miss Granger, is for us to know and you to wonder."

They departed, much to the pleasure of Madam Pince, who made a great show of closing the door firmly behind the redheads.

"Cross to bear?" Neville muttered quizzically.

"It's a muggle phrase," Hermione explained. "Taken from Christianity, referring to the cross that Jesus Christ was crucified on."

"Crucified?"

"They nailed him to it."

Ron and Neville stared at Hermione with wide eyes. It was clear they weren't sure whether or not to believe her.

"It's true," Harry interjected. "In fact, quite a few of the muggleborn students are Christians."

"So a Christian is..."

"Someone who believes in God, and Jesus Christ."

"The guy who was nailed to the cross?"

"That's the one."

"Muggles," Ron muttered, "are completely bonkers."

"Do all muggles believe in this?" Neville asked Hermione curiously.

"No, actually there are lots of different religions. There's Judaism, Islam, Sikhism, Hinduism..."

Harry suspected Hermione saw the exact moment Neville and Ron's eyes glazed over and she lost them completely. Harry was quite relieved that they were spared a religious lecture though, as he could see Hermione's eyes lighting up the way they did when she found a really juicy topic to sink her teeth into. He had done quite a bit of travelling with Mad-Eye and Kingsley, and learned about religion along the way. He wasn't quite sure if Ron and Neville would be able to grasp the concept though - with the exception of muggle-born and half-blood magicals, most witches and wizards seemed to steer clear of religion except for common superstitions.

"So basically," Neville clarified, "a group of muggles nailed another muggle to a cross, and now lots of them worship the dead muggles memory?"

Hermione beamed, and then frowned. "Er-"

"What's for lunch?" Harry said hastily, getting to his feet. He tucked the cloak back into his bag, feeling reassured to have it safely with him again.

\\\/

Thanks for reading. Always great to hear input, and I'm enjoying the writing process very much. I'm not a proper writer at all, and I definitely never will be - I'm actually an art student in my real life, and of course a mother to a new baby right now. But this is fantastic light relief during my downtime, and it's lovely to hear that some people enjoy it too.

Thank you again, for taking the time to read.

-Cas


	16. Rats and Riddles

Chapter Sixteen.

Disclaimer: Not JKR. Not even close.

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In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how they had all managed to get through their exams. Not when they were in the forest most nights tending to an increasingly vicious little dragon, or alternately checking the third floor to make sure Snape hadn't gone for the stone. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell - although Fred and George claimed they could source identical quills that would instead increase the eloquence of their answers and check their punctuation.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make an orange perform ballet across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a rat into a music box . Snape hovered over them, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Harry's scar had never troubled him before he came to Hogwarts, but it had caused him frequent discomfort in the last few months - enough that Kingsley had promised to take him to a Ugandan magical scar specialist over the summer.

There was no doubt that their study sessions had helped, but Harry didn't find it all as easy as he expected. _Perhaps next year we can get a study group going from day one,_ Harry mused. Defense Against the Dark Arts was easily the best exam. Harry was sure that all of them passed with flying colours, after their weekly defense practice and correspondence with Lupin.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self stirring cauldrons and they'd be free - free to do nothing but feed Norbert terrified rats, look for Peter Pettigrew, and keep a wary eye on Snape. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest at the relief of having at least one thing off his plate.

"How did you find that?" Neville asked, frowning as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione, pulling out some notes. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

The two of them fell into discussion about the exam paper. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, and led them firmly as far away from the path to the library as they could. Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. A group of Hufflepuff third years were giggling nearby, and Fred, George and Lee Jordan were teasing the giant squid who was baskinf in the warm shallows. Harry suspected this was nothing more than an ill-fated attempt to impress the girls.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass.

"You could look more cheerful Harry," Hermione gently chastised. "Results don't come out for a week."

"Mm," Harry grunted. His scar was prickling painfully, and he rubbed his forehead.

Suddenly there was a screech. Harry looked up just to see his owl Vapour swoop through the midday sun and land on the grass in front of them. She was preening herself, her feathers ruffled. Hooting at Harry in a self-satisfied way, she held out her leg with a scrap of parchment attached.

"Vapour?" Harry said with surprise. "What are you doing here at this time?"

Leaning forward, he detached the parchment from her leg and opened it, frowning slightly. The parchment was blank. Harry picked up his wand and aimed it at the paper. " _Constant Vigilance,"_ he muttered. Nothing happened. Harry tried again, his frown deepening. When it still didn't work, he sighed deeply.

"Hermione?" Harry asked. "Do you have your silver knife on you?"

"Of course," Hermione said with surprise, pulling out her potions kit and handing Harry the little knife.

"This has to be my _least_ favourite security method," Harry grumbled. He pricked his thumb with the blade, ignoring cries of shock from his friends. Then he allowed a single drop of dark blood to land on the parchment. The blood soaked into the thick parchment instantly and disappeared, before thin lines of ink spread out from it, covering the page to form words.

"Harry," Hermione said in a frightened voice. "Was that blood magic?"

"Yes - but I don't need to tell you that it's important no-one hears about that."

"What's so bad about it." Ron asked curiously.

Hermione answered. "Because if anyone else had tried to read that letter, they would have died. It's so dangerous. I can't believe Moody used it "

"Every other security method can be eventually broken, given enough time. It means that whatever is in this is very dangerous information that couldn't wait until the summer," Harry concluded. He bent over the parchment and began to read.

 _Potter,_

 _Received your note about seeing Peter Pettigrew in the castle. Black already confirmed Pettigrew is alive. Under veritaserum Black stated that Pettigrew was the Potter's Secret Keeper, and the killer of thirteen muggles that day, before escaping in his animagus form. Pettigrew can take on the guise of a grey rat. Although you say he has disappeared, if you see him again, do what you can to capture him but be careful. He may be extremely dangerous._

 _I do not need to tell you that he may try to attack on sight. Be on your guard._

 _Mad-Eye_

Harry sat staring at the note for a long time, his mind racing. _Pettigrew was in the Slytherin dormitory. And at the Slytherin table. Pettigrew takes on the form of a grey rat..._ And then he knew. Silently, he passed the note to Ron, who took it looking confused. Ron scanned the words, and looked up at Harry, shock on his face. "You don't think - _Scabbers_?!"

"It's the only explanation."

"What's going on?" Neville asked. Harry passed over the note, and Neville and Hermione bent over it.

"You think Scabbers is Peter Pettigrew?" Neville said disbelievingly.

Harry remembered something Ron had said previously. "Didn't Scabbers disappear, right after the article about Sirius's release came out?"

"Must have been around that time," Ron frowned.

"So he's gone," Harry said dully. "After he was within our grasp for practically the entire year. How could I not have figured it out? How could I have been so _stupid?_ "

"Hey mate," said Ron. "Don't beat yourself up. He was my rat for years, and Percy's before mine. None of us ever realised he wasn't actually a rat."

Harry groaned, and lay back on the grass with his head in his hands. Just as they had the answer, it was snatched away from them again. The giggling from the group of Hufflepuff girls nearby had intensified, and Harry found it unusually irritating. Peter Pettigrew had been their only hope to prove Sirius's innocence...

Suddenly Hermione let out an exclamation.

"What's up?" Ron asked.

"Oh my ... Ron ... Norbert!" Hermione gasped.

"Norbert?" Harry said quizzically.

"What?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked excited. "I don't think we've ever checked Hagrid's hut on the map. All those rats he has for Norbert!"

Ron turned white. "Scabbers!"

"Pettigrew," Neville reminded him

Harry fumbled in his pockets, grateful that he had borrowed the map that very morning from the twins. Opening it out to its full three feet, he bent over it, folding and unfolding until he located the groundskeeper's hut. They all peered closely.

"Nothing," Harry said with relief.

"Hagrid must be out in the forest with Norbert," Ron said.

"Oh my, look" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Silently she pointed at the dark section of the map that depicted the forbidden forest. The small dot labeled _Rubeus Hagrid_ was making its way slowly into the forest. Bobbing along next to it was a dot labeled _Fang._ But that wasn't what had drawn their attention. It was the third dot that made them stare.

A third dot, that clearly said _Peter Pettigrew._

"He must be going to feed Norbert!" Hermione moaned.

Ron jumped to his feet. "Come on!" He said. "We've got to stop him! You think Scabbers is just going to let himself get eaten by a dragon?"

"Shouldn't we get a teacher?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"No time" said Ron, scrambling up the grassy slope, "Scabb - err - Pettigrew could have killed Hagrid by then. Or been roasted!"

"Can't we split up?" said Neville, but Ron, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

"RON! " Harry shouted, and the redhead came to a stop. "Never run into a potentially dangerous situation without a plan," Harry said calmly, hoping his level voice might have some effect. "You might still be able to bluff your way out of this one if you pretend you don't know Scabbers is Pettigrew.

"What do we do?"

"You and Neville go ahead. Tell Hagrid you've recently lost Scabbers, and ask if you can check the rats. Identify Pettigrew, pretend you're relieved to have Scabbers back, and leave. Hermione and I will follow under the cloak as emergency back-up. We'll all go straight to Dumbledore - nobody else in the school is equipped to deal with this, and Mad-Eye wouldn't get here in time. We're no match for an adult wizard, and even unarmed Pettigrew will be desperate if he realises what's going on. Dumbledore is better than risking our lives."

Ron considered this for a moment, and then nodded grimly. "Alright," he agreed. "Let's get moving."

The forest had been hard to maneuver with a crate full of dragon. Without it, their task became positively easy. They ran heedlessly through the trees, ignoring the branches that whipped their faces and the thorns that clawed at their arms and legs. After five minutes, they heard a distinct crunching, and the shape of Hagrid's enormous back came into view. He was stumping along talking merrily to Fang; a smallish crate in his arms.

"Now," Harry hissed. He pulled the cloak over himself and Hermione, and they moved forward carefully. Ron and Neville jogged up to Hagrid, then slowed to a casual walk.

"Hi Hagrid," Ron said in a strained voice.

"Oh hello Ron," Hagrid smiled. "Come to see Norbert?"

"Actually," Ron hesitated. "It's about my rat, Scabbers. He disappeared a few days ago, and I was worried he might have gotten mixed up with the rats for Norbert."

"I didn't know you had a rat Ron," Hagrid frowned. "Or I'd have been more careful. You're welcome to take a look."

Ron bent down nervously and peered into the crate. It was dark, but after a moment Ron let out an exclamation. "I think that's him!"

"Really?"

"I reckon so. Can I get him out Hagrid?"

"Alright," said the giant looking bemused as he lifted the lid off the crate. Ron reached in and carefully scooped up a fat grey rat quivering in the corner. The squeaking intensified, and Hagrid quickly slammed the lid on the crate shut again, securing the other rats.

"Thanks Hagrid," Ron said with relief, carefully putting the rat in his pocket. Even from a distance Harry saw Ron shudder slightly as the animagus rested against him.

The four of them walked back in silence. Neville tried to engage Ron in strained conversation about their summer plans, but Ron didn't seem in any mood to talk. Relief washed over Harry as they left the forest, and he and Hermione pulled the cloak off themselves, and fell into step beside Ron and Neville.

By the time they reached the castle, Harry was almost convinced that they'd make it all the way up to Dumbledore's office unaccosted with the rat. He even let himself dream of forcing the man to reveal his human form, and was imagining telling Mad-Eye that they had captured Pettigrew within minutes of receiving his letter. They were through the great hall - up the grand staircase - until -

"Ron! Harry!"

Harry groaned, and wished he could sink into the ground. Of all the people they could possible run into at these times, this had to be the worst. Fred and George came bounding up to them with wide identical grins. Hermione was making frantic _go away_ gestures at them, but the irrepressible pair weren't paying the slightest bit of attention.

"Saw you running off through the grounds, what's up?" Fred said.

Harry just shook his head silently.

"Well anyway, we need to have a look at the map Harry," George whispered in a conspiring tone, looking to the left and right. "We need to check where Filch and Mcgonagall are before we let off some end of term dungbombs."

Ron was trying to edge as far away from the small group as possible, and Harry gestured frantically at George to stop talking. But it was too late. If they could hear George talking about the Marauder's Map, Pettigrew definitely could.

"What's going on?" George asked, confused.

There was a scuffling in Ron's pocket and a frantic squeaking. Ron was trying desperately to hold onto a squirming rat. Pettigrew was thrashing around frantically in Ron's hands. Next moment Ron let out a wail - the rat had sunk his teeth into his finger and was hanging on like a pitbull. Ron shook his hand in agony, and Pettigrew let go suddenly, going flying onto the floor. The rat scurried down the corridor quickly.

"STOP HIM!" Harry roared.

" _Immobulus!_ " Hermione screamed. The spell shot towards the rat and missed.

"Scabbers?" Fred said, bewildered, as Ron took off down the corridor after the rat.

"Peter Pettigrew," Harry shouted distractedly, dashing after them. "Quick! Stop him!"

" _Reducto!"_ Fred bellowed, aiming at a section of the floor just ahead of Pettigrew.

The flagstones exploded in a shower of stone that shot in all directions. The grey rat let out an unearthly shriek as a crater appeared in the floor in front of him. Time seemed to pause and hang in slow motion. Harry saw Ron trip over the crater in the floor, stumble on the fragments of stone, and then stagger and fall. Ron threw out his arms to save himself, but didn't manage to break his fall in time. His head made a sickening _crack_ as it connected with the stone floor.

"Ron! _Ron_!" The twins sprinted forwards and fell to their knees beside their youngest brother. The redhead lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, still and unmoving. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. Harry ran forward, and threw himself towards his best friend.

"Ron!" But there was no answer.

Hermione grabbed Ron's wrist and checked for a pulse. "He's alive," she said, her voice shaking. "What were you _thinking?_ "

"Oh thank Merlin," said Fred. Both twins had gone white, and Fred looked as though he wanted to be sick. "I just...panicked. Harry, when you said the rat was Peter Pettigrew, the one we'd been searching the map for..."

"We need to get help. Neville, can you go straight to the hospital wing and get Madam Pomfrey. It's not safe to move Ron," Harry directed.

Harry was relieved by the presence of a pulse, but it was obvious Ron needed more help. Nonetheless, the moment he had ascertained Ron was alive, he pulled out the map again. His early training had taught him to remain calm and keep in mind all aspects of a scenario. This might be the only chance they ever had to catch Pettigrew. The rat hadn't gotten caught by the crater, but couldn't have gotten far.

"Hermione, we still need to stop Pettigrew, or he'll leave the grounds and we'll never find him."

Then Harry paused, spotting the he name he had been searching for on the map. The dot labeled Peter Pettigrew was scurrying along a corridor just around the corner. And coming in the other direction was another dot labeled _Mrs Norris._

Hermione followed Harry's gaze, and paled. Without a word, they jumped to their feet and ran down the corridor, around the corner. The corridor was empty of people. Everyone was out in the grounds enjoying the sunshine which was possibly the only reason they'd thus far escaped detection - although Harry was sure the noise of the exploding floor would soon bring teachers at least.

However right at this moment, Harry was quite glad for no witnesses - because he was entertaining the idea of murdering the caretaker's cat. Mrs Norris was in the middle of the corridor, glaring at them balefully, her dirty fur looking even grimier than usual. Harry thought she might have hissed at them had she been able to, but she wasn't. This was because her mouth was full of a fat, grey rat.

The rat looked dead.

"Oh no," Hermione moaned. "Is he...dead?"

Harry took a step forward. The rat was hanging limply, his tail drooping and his fur dull. He certainly didn't look very alive.

"Bad cat!" Hermione hissed furiously. "Drop it!"

Mrs Norris ignored Hermione in the way she would have ignored a nuisance little fly. Did animagus wizards change back into their normal forms after dying as an animal? Harry wondered. Pettigrew was showing no signs. Mrs Norris retreated, her pale eyes fixed upon them, the rat firmly clamped in her teeth. Clearly she had no intention of giving up her prize. They heard a clatter of footsteps.

"What's going on here?" Filch puffed, rounding a corner.

"Your cat" Harry clearly enunciated, "is trying to eat our friend Ron's rat."

Then, unmistakably, the rat twitched.

"Get him!" Harry shouted, starting towards Mrs Norris. Before he had taken two steps he felt himself grabbed by the scruff of the neck. Harry grasped for the hand restraining him and tugged on it with a twist, using Filch's momentum to send him flying to the floor. The caretaker fell heavily with a yell.

Hermione moaned behind Harry. "Mr Filch..."

"You little brat!" Filch snarled, climbing to his feet. "Attack a member of staff and his pet? Dumbledore will hear about this!"

"Mr Filch, Ron's been hurt," Hermione cried. "You've got to help us!"

The diversionary tactic worked. Filch shot Harry a hate-filled glare, and shuffled around the corner with Hermione. Harry looked around frantically for Mrs Norris. The cat was sitting by the corner, watching Filch. Her mouth was empty. Peter Pettigrew was gone. Harry glared furiously at Mrs Norris. The cat looked insolently back at Harry, as if daring him to make any kind of threatening move when Filch was so close.

Harry didn't need a map to tell him what he already knew. Pettigrew was on his way out of the grounds, and with him went any chance of Sirius's innocence being proven.

\\\/

"We need to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said to Hermione.

It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron's was the only occupied bed. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were sitting around him; they had spent all evening waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o'clock. Fred and George had arrived at ten past.

"What's going on?" George asked. The twins were unusually serious - Fred especially was quiet and pale as he looked at his brother.

"Yeah, what was all that with the rat?" Fred added.

Harry, Hermione and Neville exchanged glances. "We can't tell you," Harry said at last. "Sorry. It's just that..."

"We're not stupid Harry," George interrupted. "After our last conversation we looked up Peter Pettigrew."

"Oh."

"Would this have anything to do with a certain prison break?" Fred asked carefully.

"Can't we tell them?" Neville asked.

"We officially can't say anything," Harry said. "Anything that could be one day used against us."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office in the corner of the hospital wing. The plump matron looked stern as she took in all the visitors.

"Keep the noise down, or you can go back to your houses," she warned them. "This boy needs rest!"

"How is he?" Hermione asked quickly.

Madam Pomfrey sighed and pulled out her wand. Pointing it at Ron, she murmured a few diagnostic spells and made complicated wrist movements that Hermione watched closely. "That was a hard crack he took to the head," the matron told them. "But he should be at least conscious by tomorrow."

The twins breathed identical sighs of relief, and even Harry slumped in his chair, feeling calmer than he had since the horrible moment Ron had fallen. The light in the infirmary suddenly seemed brighter. Madam Pomfrey returned to her office after warning them not to miss curfew. Once she had gone, the twins pulled their chairs in closer and fixed Harry with a stare again.

"Right," George started. "That's what you needed the map for right? Looking for Pettigrew."

"Some of the time," Harry said non-committedly."

"Harry why don't you just tell them? Maybe they could help?" Neville burst out. Fred and George swivelled to look at Neville, who shrugged at Harry's glare.

"The more people who know a secret, the more chance the wrong person will discover it," Harry recited dully. It was one of Kingsley's favourite sayings.

"Not everything. Just a little, just enough to help?"

Harry looked quizzically at Neville. The boy took a deep breath and turned to the twins.

"What it is," he said to Fred and George, "is that we have reason to think Snape might be up to something. We've got to make sure he doesn't go anywhere unusual. For all we know, he could have been in league with Pettigrew." Harry blinked at Neville. A Pettigrew/Snape allegiance hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Unusual like where?" George asked carefully, pulling out the map.

"Like the third floor corridor," Harry interjected, figuring he might as well say it or they could be there all evening.

"Nope," Fred said, the colour returning to his cheeks as he looked at the map. "Snape's in the dungeons. The third floor though..."

Freda voice tailed off, and Harry looked at him curiously. "What?"

"Professor Quirrell," Fred said oddly. "And someone else, I don't recognise that name."

"Who is it? Another student?" Hermione asked.

"Not sure. Tom Riddle? Anyone heard of him?"

\\\/

Harry's first thought was that the map must be malfunctioning. That was his second thought as well.

Time seemed to slow down, as he leapt to his feet. His words felt slow and thick as he tried to form a sentence. Was forced accept the possibility that the monster he had been preparing to fight against, might possibly be in Hogwarts at this very moment. His mind didn't seem able to compute this new information fast enough. _Hang on,_ it seemed to say. _Weren't we worrying about Ron and Pettigrew a moment ago? No time for this as well._

Shaking his head, Harry grabbed the map, and tried to clear his thoughts. Mad-Eye's words reverberated over and over in his head. _Formulate a plan...formulate a plan..._ what was the whole lesson? _In an emergency situation, first assess the immediate risk._

Riddle at Hogwarts. In what form, they couldn't know. How strong, they couldn't know. But the original incarnation had murdered countless people and destroyed the lives of hundreds of others. This was the most serious incarnation of immediate risk Harry could ever imagine coming up against. Not to mention they were in a school full of children.

 _If this situation poses potential harm to you or others, send immediately for backup._

Harry turned to his friends, who were sitting with identical expressions of shock on their faces.

"Neville go straight to the owlery and send Vapour to Kingsley. Say that Riddle is at Hogwarts _right now._ He'll be our best bet for help. Mad-Eye is too far away right now."

Neville stumbled to his feet, looking at Harry as if he had gone mad, but left the hospital wing without questioning his instructions.

 _Assess if it is possible to defuse the situation without conflict._

Harry had no chance. Confronting an adult wizard - even one like Quirrell - and some version of Riddle, they could be slaughtered. But perhaps someone else could. There was only one hope in that direction, no matter how much he didn't like the idea.

"Hermione, I need you to go and get Dumbledore. Tell him Quirrell and Riddle are trying to get the stone. Quickly!"

"Dumbledore? But-"

"Like him or not, he's on our side in this. And we can't deal with this alone."

Hermione gave Harry a frightened look, and scurried out of the hospital wing in Neville's wake.

 _Take in as much information as possible._

Harry glanced towards the door. This was going to take a lot more than just information gathering. Harry grasped both of his wands tightly, and nodded to Fred and George, both of whom looked be bemused.

"Harry-" George began.

"I can't answer all of the questions right now. But please, please look after Ron. If I'm correct, as soon as Hermione reaches Dumbledore, he should be shutting things down and getting all the students to safety. There's a very serious threat in the school right now. Tom Riddle is Lord Voldemort -"

Fred and George made noises of disbelief, but Harry ignored them and ploughed on. "- and if Voldemort is in the school, although I think he must be pretty weak, nobody is safe. Tell Madam Pomfrey as soon as I leave."

"Harry," Fred said weakly. "You can't be serious. Tom Riddle's got to be a common name."

"Quirrell was spotted this summer in the last place Voldemort was rumoured to be," Harry said grimly, ignoring the twins flinching at the name. "Looks like he picked up a holiday souvenir."

"Do you want the map?" Fred said, rallying.

"No you keep it. If you see Quirrell, Riddle, or even Snape heading this way... get Madam Pomfrey to transport Ron, and all of you get the hell out. This is serious, this could be life or death."

With those parting words, Harry turned and departed the hospital wing at a run. It was late enough that he didn't bump into anyone as he jogged through empty corridors and down staircases, taking them two at a time. He swore loudly as a staircase changed direction while he was halfway down, and a portrait on the wall tutted at him.

" _Language,_ " the woman in the painting hissed at him. "In my day..."

It was a miracle that Harry encountered neither Peeves, Filch or Mrs Norris. He supposed that the latter was curled up somewhere lamenting the loss of her expected supper. No doubt a fat rat would have been a great treat for the cat.

Finally he burst through a tapestry and stumbled out onto the third floor corridor. The door at the end seemed to loom bleakly. It was already ajar. Harry hadn't taken more than two steps towards it though before an unexpected voice stopped him.

"Harry!"

Harry turned to see Hermione racing up the stairs towards him. Her face was pale and drawn.

"Professor Dumbledore's gone," she gasped as she reached the top, clutching the banister for support as she panted.

"I ran into Professor McGonagall. She said Professor Dumbledore was called to the ministry on urgent business and won't return until tomorrow."

"They planned this," Harry said grimly. "Quirrell and Riddle. We've got to stop them. Did you tell Professor McGonagall at least?"

"I tried, I tried but oh Harry, she wouldn't believe me!" Hermione said. She looked distraught. "She said the stone was well guarded and nobody could get close. I didn't dare tell her about the map."

"Right," Harry said. He suddenly felt very calm. "It's down to you and me. We can't delay any longer. If Voldemort gets that stone, he's as good as returned."

"Alright" Hermione said, her voice slightly steadier. "Let's do it."

\\\/

This chapter originally contained lots of the next chapter too, but I couldn't find a place to stop and it just became too long. The next update will be on Wednesday.

Thanks for reading

-Cas


	17. Quavering Quirinus the Queer

Chapter 17

\\\/

Harry pushed the door open. As the door creaked, low, rumbling snores met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even in its sleep. Harry had been prepared to sing, but the dog was already asleep.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"It's an enchanted harp," said Harry. "Quirrell must have left it there."

Slowly they crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Harry, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"Okay," Hermione said shakily, eying the trapdoor nervously.

"No actually it's better if I do," Harry thought out loud. "If the harps stops or something, you can keep singing."

Hermione nodded, and Harry thought she looked distinctly relieved. He gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled  
the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

"Are you going to jump?" Hermione asked.

"Are you nuts? No way. Jumping into a pit that has been specifically designed to keep people away? There could be anything down there."

Thinking they could really do with seeing what they were up against, Harry pulled out his Ugandan wand. With it, he could cast spells he hadn't yet mastered verbally. And this was no time to pull punches. He focussed his mind, accessed his magic and imagined the space below the trapdoor filling with light, exposing his surroundings. An orb of bright light floated free of his wand and drifted slowly towards the hole in the floor. It floated gently down the trapdoor, and Harry and Hermione peered down. The orb was still hovering in mid air, pulsing slightly.

The drop didn't seem too far, but the landing didn't look great. There seemed to be some kind of plant at the bottom. Harry could make out a mass of roots, twisted vines and tendrils that seemed to be flinching away from the light.

"Is this Devil's Snare?" Harry asked, looking at the plant with distaste.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "If we're going to jump we'll need something warmer than just the light. Can you make a fire?"

"Yes, but we should probably wait until we get down there. If we set the plant on fire now, it might go mad and start moving violently. It could risk injuring us when we land on it."

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Hermione and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to your head of house - Flitwick isn't it? Tell him everything."

Right," said Hermione tremulously.

"See you in a minute, I hope."

And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and — FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on the soft mass of plant. The plant was still twitching uncomfortably under the light.

"It's alright Hermione," Harry called. "Soft landing!"

Harry extinguished the light from his wand in order to cast a fierier spell. As soon as the light left his wand, the plants Harry was sitting on seemed to come alive and began writhing violently. Some of the creepers even wrapped themselves eagerly around his legs, and he pulled them away impatiently. Hermione had landed on the other side of Harry, and nearly got hit in the face by a flailing tendril.

Harry pointed his wand at the plant, and this time visualised a much brighter, hotter light. The glare exploded from the end of his wand, scorching the nearest plants. Harry and Hermione flinched backwards, shielding their faces from the heat. But that was nothing to the reaction of the Devil's Snare. It cringed and writhed to avoid the heat. Harry and Hermione both stood, and struggled through the grasping plant until they reached a damp wall.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry wondered how far into the depths of the school they were going. How long would it take his owl to reach Kingsley? Would Neville think to warn anyone else that there might be a resurrected Dark Lord rampaging through the school if they failed in their task?

"Can you hear something?" Hermione whispered.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Keep your wand out."

"There's light ahead — I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. Harry frowned at the birds. The whole set-up felt fake. The birds were too pretty, the chamber too bright and open. The birds were like the brightly coloured exotic birds he had encountered in his childhood.

Harry wondered where they were, and if Fred and George could see them on the map. If they made it back, he would be very interested to know just how far into the school they had gone. Just what had Dumbledore been _thinking_ setting this up?

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, bringing him back down to earth. " _Look_. They're keys!"

Harry looked, and after a long moment he saw what she meant. The birds that tumbled about their heads were an assortment of different metal keys, with small feathery wings. They glittered and fluttered, swooping in a flock and then separating to soar alone.

"That's got to be how we get through that door."

"Exactly"

"Hermione," Harry said softly, in case he caught the attention of the keys. "It'll take forever to work out which key to grab. Our best bet is to freeze them. Together?"

Hermione nodded, and raised her wand.

" _Immobulus!_ " They cried out together. The keys froze in place, hovering motionless in the air. They didn't fall to the ground, which Harry assumed must have been a part of the charm. He and Hermione craned their heads, searching. Noticing the lock on the door, Harry nudged Hermione.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."

The keys floated serenely. Even so it was difficult to see amongst all the rainbow feathers. After a few moments though, Harry noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" he said to Hermione, reaching for his wand. Pointing it towards the key, he visualised tugging the key towards him like a fish on the end of a line. It seemed more difficult than usual, but after a moment the key zoomed into his hand. Hermione quickly murmured the counter charm, and the keys began moving again. The one in Harry's hand started struggling against his fingers.

"Why'd you let them go?" Harry said, annoyed.

"In case anyone else tries to get through. You never know who else is in league with Quirrell," Hermione pointed out. Harry sighed, and then suddenly laughed.

"You've been paying attention to Mad-Eye!"

Harry rammed the key into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harry asked Hermione, his hand on the door handle. She nodded. He pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry and Hermione shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Oh no," Hermione said.

"What?"

"We've got to play our way across. Can you play chess?"

"Not really," said Harry. He felt ill, thinking of Ron lying unconscious in the hospital wing. Ron, who would no doubt have been able to get across in a trice.

"It's only logic," said Hermione. She seemed to be trying convince herself. "We can do this."

"We don't have another choice," Harry muttered. "Walking into a dangerous situation like this is stupid, but we absolutely don't have another choice. If Quirrell gets the stone, we'll be facing something a lot more dangerous."

They approached the chessboard slowly. Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How do we do this?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Harry, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

Hermione was trembling. Harry looked at the board and tried to rationalise it. It made sense for them to be pieces that could move a lot - pieces that weren't commonly taken right away like pawns.

"I'll be a bishop. Hermione, you go there and be that knight."

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight and bishop turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving two empty squares that Harry and Hermione took.

"I think white always plays first in chess," said Harry peering across the board. "Yes, there."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

"Alright," Harry said nervously, looking at the board and wishing Ron was there. Slowly, cautiously he began to direct the black pieces.

It had been a vain hope for Harry to wonder if perhaps he would be better at chess now it was a matter of life and death. Although he and Hermione sometimes discussed a move at length, they were unmistakably losing. Losing badly. The black pieces moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry had always thought he was good in difficult situations, but this had his nerves shredded. What if they lost? None of his training had prepared him to battle giant marble chess pieces.

"Hermione — move forward one square, and then two squares to the right."

The white queen was a vicious killer. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Although Harry tried to do the same with the white pieces, the best they managed in return was a handful of pawns and a castle. They were hopelessly outnumbered in minutes.

Harry's heart thumped when their other bishop was taken, and he realised they he and Hermione, their king and queen and a couple of pawns were all the black pieces had left. Looking across at Hermione, her face was milk white.

"I don't think I can do this," Harry admitted.

"What do we do?" Hermione whispered.

"Can you leave?" Harry asked. But no sooner had Hermione taken a step off her square than all the white pieces raised their weapons threateningly at her and even at Harry. Hermione froze, and slowly stepped backwards to her square.

"We have to play until the end," Harry summarised. "Okay. Queen, move four squares diagonally left "

Their queen took out a white pawn, and Hermione gave a shaky cheer. But it was too late. Harry had already realised his mistake. In moving the black queen, he had left Hermione open to attack from the white queen.

"NO!" Harry shouted, as the white queen turned her blank face towards Hermione.

Hermione was still standing on her square watching the white pawn struggle towards the side, quite unaware of what was happening behind her. At Harry's shout, she turned out as the white queen began to move silently, slowly across the board towards her. Hermione let out a whimper, but stayed where she was.

"Hermione MOVE!" Harry shouted.

"No," she whispered. "If I move, they'll attack anyway. You've got to win this."

Hermione stood her ground, trembling but defiantly unmoving as the white queen approached. The queen struck Hermione hard across the head with her stone arm, and Hermione screamed and fell. It almost seemed to Harry that she fell in slow motion. Then next thing, he realised she actually _was_ falling in slow motion. Something, or someone had arrested her fall

A second before Hermione hit the ground she stopped, hovering in mid air as though lifted by an invisible force. Slowly, her limp body was gently lowered to the ground where she lay in a little heap. She looked unconscious.

Harry looked around wildly for the spellcaster. Was the board enchanted to stop human players getting seriously injured by the stone pieces?

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, hoping to wake her. He didn't dare move from his place. The white queen still stood blankly over the unconscious young witch. Then suddenly, a voice broke the silence.

"Shut up you stupid boy, before anyone else gets hurt."

The smooth voice came from behind Harry. It was a cold, scathing voice, like frost in the winter. Harry froze where he stood. Without even turning around, he already knew who he would see. He grasped his wand tightly in his hand. He was acutely aware that he was alone except for an unconscious Hermione, and far below the rest of the school in an unknown location.

This was not how he would have chosen to encounter this man. Walking towards him from the direction of the key chamber and stowing his wand in his black, billowing robes, was Professor Snape.

"Professor Snape," Harry said quietly, trying not to let his fear show. "Come to help Quirrell?"

A flash of annoyance passed across the potion master's usually unreadable face. "Quiet Potter," he snapped. "I'm trying to get you out of this mess."

With a soft incantation, Snape gently levitated Hermione from her place on the board. Her limp body rose into the air without the slightest trace of movement, and came to rest on the stone floor beyond the reach of the chess pieces. Snape covered her unconscious body with his cloak, and then straightened up.

Once Hermione was safe, Snape shot something silvery from his wand that streaked away in the direction they had come from. Harry couldn't work out what was going on. Snape was supposed to be the enemy.

"What are you doing here?"

"I said _quiet_ Potter."

Harry fell silent, glancing at Hermione. Was it his imagination or was she stirring? Harry turned his attention back to the other man. Snape was staring at the chessboard, his eyes glittering as he looked carefully at the position of all the pieces.

"Pathetic," Snape sneered. "Another few minutes and you would have _both_ been taken out."

"Well believe it or not, I can't play chess!" Harry said furiously.

"Clearly," Snape sneered. "But then, Weasley was supposed to be with you."

"What do you mean _supposed_ to?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Use that dimwitted brain of yours Potter," Snape hissed. Before Harry could make a retort, the potions master returned his attention to the chess board and began directing the chess pieces. They obeyed him as readily as they had obeyed Harry. It quickly became clear that Professor Snape was an expert chess player. Harry reluctantly allowed himself to be directed.

Slowly they clawed their way back into the game. The pile of white players grew steadily bigger.

"Pawn, forward one space," Snape muttered. When the black pawn reached the far end of the board, Snape took its place as one of their missing castles. He moved around the board like a bat, taking out piece after piece until -

"Potter, you're in position to checkmate after I make this move."

Snape silently stepped forward and took out a white castle.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. Harry sprinted over to Hermione and fell to his knees beside her unconscious body.

"She's fine," Snape interrupted harshly. "And I've sent for help. Now you stay here with her while I go on. The headmaster will have something to say about _this_ escapade I assure you."

"I'm not staying here," Harry said.

"You'll do as you're told, foolish child!"

"If Quirrell brings Voldemort back, he'll be coming this way anyway. Besides. _In a defensive situation never discount any possible advantage._ "

"And you're an advantage are you Potter?" Snape sneered.

Harry shrugged. "I'm better than nothing."

Harry didn't have time to think about how bizarre the situation was as he and Professor Snape ran through the door across the board and up the next passageway. The potions master was the last ally he would have ever expected to come his aid. He winced at the thought of what Mad-Eye would have to say about it.

"How did you know?" Harry panted.

"The Weasley twins," Snape said shortly.

"They _told_ you?"

"No. I went to see Weasley in the hospital wing. Upon my arrival I discovered his brothers spinning Poppy Pomfrey an unlikely story about Quirrell and Voldemort. I believe she thought they were joking, so in order to confirm, I pulled the truth from their minds."

"We thought - we thought you were the one after the stone."

"Use your brain you stupid boy, what would I want the stone for?"

"Voldemort."

Snape made no reply, but shot Harry a look so scathing that he fell silent. They had reached another door.

Snape pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs.

"As are we all Potter. Although I'm sure such details seem irrelevant to one such as yourself, mountain trolls are actually an endangered species. The last thing we need is you dropping another one on its head."

Snape pulled open the next door, shooting Harry a filthy look. Harry hardly dared to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. Snape stepped up to the table and ran a critical eye over the potions. He seemed almost disappointed. Harry didn't dare ask him why.

"What do we have to do?"

Harry stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped. As Harry stepped further into the room he noticed a scroll on the table. Snape however was ignoring it. He was waving his wand over the smallest bottle on the table. As Harry watched, it suddenly swelled and doubled in size.

"Listen closely Potter," Snape said suddenly. He gestured to the smallest bottle, that shone with a dark light. "This will get us through the fire. There is another bottle that will send you back to Miss Granger. The choice is still yours as to which you take."

"I'm not leaving," Harry said with quiet conviction.

"This is not a game Potter -"

"I _know_ it's not a game. Voldemort killed my parents, and I'll be damned if I stand back and let him come back to harm anyone else I care about."

"Your mother would not have wanted you to go through this fire," Snape said. His eyes were gleaming oddly.

Harry felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. For a moment he wavered, and imagined leaving. Just walking away and letting an adult deal with the situation. But then a mental image of Hermione standing before the white queen, terrified but unmoving came to Harry's mind. That was true bravery. That was sacrificing yourself to save others. That was the person his two surrogate father figures had raised him to be.

"With all due respect sir, my mother is dead. I'll never know what she wanted. But between us we might have a chance that one person alone wouldn't."

 _Besides,_ Harry added in his mind. _How do I know you're not just going to join forces with Quirrell?_

Snape looked at Harry strangely for a long moment. "You know one or both of us might not survive?"

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

Professor Snape said no more, but nodded shortly. In that moment though, Harry felt he had earned the dark man's respect for the first time. Snape passed Harry the bottle, and Harry took a swig. It was like ice and he gasped as it rushed through his body, leaving him tingling with pins and needles. Snape finished the other half of the bottle, and straightened.

"What's the plan?" Harry asked.

"I'll take on Quirrell and Voldemort. You try and get the stone,"

Harry nodded, and made sure all of his dreadlocks were tucked safely back in a ponytail. He debated for a moment, and then swapped to his Ugandan wand. It wasn't as precise, but he could do more with it.

"Where's the stone?"

"I don't know. We only ever saw our own defenses."

"Fantastic."

"Ready Potter?"

"Ready."

Snape put the bottle down and walked forward; Harry followed him, and braced himself. He saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them — for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire — then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was someone waiting.

\\\/

"Severus. What a pleasant surprise," Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"I can't say the same for you," Snape said coldly.

"And you brought Potter too, I see." Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp.

"He insisted." Snape gestured dismissively at Harry, who tried to look unobtrusive. Being underestimated was the best weapon you could have against a more powerful opponent.

"No doubt."

Harry noticed with surprise that Quirrell was standing in front of a mirror. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Quirrell seemed supremely unconcerned by the presence of Snape and Harry as he examined the mirror. Harry thought to himself Quirrell had to be either very confident or very stupid.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," he murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…"

"Will you?" Snape asked idly, stepping forward slowly. Harry noticed his wand was in his hand, and in spite of his casual tone, his face was taut.

"Yes Severus," Quirrell said flicking his wand absentmindedly. "I will."

Ropes appeared out of thin air and attempted to wrap themselves around Snape and Harry. Snape gestured quickly with his own wand and an invisible barrier sprung between them. The ropes fell to the ground and disappeared. Snape twirled his wand and a volley of arrows shot towards Quirrell, but he deflected them with a quick wand motion and they clattered harmlessly against the stone wall.

Quirrell smiled at Snape, as though the preliminaries had been observed, and they could now get down to business.

"Never did know how to stay on the winning side, did you Severus?" Quirrell taunted. "Always the slimy dungeon bat."

"I remember you at Hogwarts," Snape said to Quirrell calmly. "A few years ahead. Scrawny little know-all Ravenclaw with an unusual interest in the dark arts. Didn't like that too much, did they? What was it they called you? Quirinus the Queer?"

"Shut up!" Quirrell spat. His face had flushed an ugly shade of red.

"Quavering Quirinus the Queer, that was it," Snape said, as though remarking on the weather. He remained supremely composed, whilst Quirrell's face was growing steadily more purple.

While Snape worked Quirrell into a state of fury, Harry began to slowly work his way around the man without him noticing. There was no sign of Voldemort, and that made Harry more nervous than anything else. He tried to unobtrusively sidle towards the mirror.

"You weren't much better!" Quirrell's voice was shaking with rage. "At least I wasn't in Slytherin! You, skulking around in second hand robes trying to make nice to that red-headed Gryffindor!"

"You will not speak of her," Snape hissed, and shot a spell at Quirrell. When the man tried to open his mouth, no sounds came out. Harry took advantage of his preoccupation to sidle ever closer to the mirror...he was nearly in front of it...

"Stop the boy."

Harry froze with horror. The voice was rasping and low, and quite unlike Quirrell's. But it seemed to come from the turbaned man.

"Stop...him"

Snape's face registered similar shock at the voice, but he recovered quickly. He took advantage of Quirrell's brief lack of attention to send a sheet of flame snaking towards him. The man extinguished it with a jet of water from his wand. Quirrell still couldn't speak, but was evidently talented at wandless magic. He whipped his wand towards Harry, and this time Harry felt the ropes bind him tightly. He fell to the ground in front of the mirror, tasting grit in his mouth.

Quirrell turned his back on Harry and stalked towards Snape. Brandishing their wands, the pair began to duel in earnest. Quirrell raised his wand and a jet of green light sped towards Snape., who turned and dodged with a swirl of his cloak. Next second he had moved over to the door they had entered through, and waved his wand towards the black flames. The flames seemed to spring to life. Long tongues of them shot out towards Quirrell, who set a stream of spells uselessly at them before diving to the floor.

Snape took advantage of the diversion to advance on Quirrell, who cowered on the floor.

"It was a mistake to do this tonight, Quirrell," Snape said calmly. "Dumbledore will return soon -"

"By which time I shall be gone and you will be dead," spat Quirrell, who had regained his voice. He sent another curse at Snape but missed, hitting a wall instead which exploded in a shower of fragments.

Snape flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and Quirrell was forced to take refuge behind the mirror. The spell, whatever it was did not harm the mirror, though a chime reverberated through the glass as though it had been struck with a silver spoon.

"You will not succeed Snape," Quirrell called, his pale face appearing from behind the mirror as he emerged. "Not with such powers as I have been given."

"You know nothing of power," Snape said, his face darkening. "Nothing!"

"And you know nothing of loyalty," snarled Quirrell.

"You are wrong," said Snape, closing in on Quirrell, but returning his voice to a level tone as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Harry was struggling against the ropes, but his mind was so fixed on the battle ahead that he struggled to regain his focus. His Ugandan wand was still in his hand, and Harry directed all his energy into visually himself released, released, _released._ After the greatest effort Harry had ever put into a spell, the ropes loosened and slackened. Harry gave a sigh of relief. He had managed it, although he was sweating slightly and shaking from the effort. He lay very still, not wanting to give himself away.

"Indeed, I know things about loyalty that your greed-addled mind could never conceive of."

Another jet of green light flew from behind the mirror. This time Snape conjured up a shield that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces. But before the fragments had even hit the floor, Snape had brandished his wand like a whip. Quirrell dodged again, and deep gouges appeared in the stone floor where he had been standing.

Snape snarled and sent another thin jet of flame towards Quirrell. It wrapped itself around the man, and for a moment it seemed Snape had won. But then Quirrell shrugged off the flames as easily as Harry had shrugged off the ropes, and stepped forward. There was a change in the man. At once, Harry could see that Quirrell was different. The person standing in front of them was no longer the nervous teacher, nor even the man they had first encountered in this room. something new, and entirely more terrifying. His eyes had narrowed to slits, and turned blood red.

"Snape," the new man hissed, and send a jet of light towards the potions master. Snape froze where he stood, and his wand clattered to the floor. As he saw his ally disarmed, an icy chill of fear crawled down Harry's spine. Until now, he hadn't been afraid. But seeing Snape disabled, he knew it was all down to him.

The new apparition was looking at Snape with an expression of deepest loathing. There was nothing but cold defiance in Snape's eyes, which didn't surprise Harry. Even looking death in the face didn't seem to faze the potions master.

Harry could only see the back of Quirrell's turban and his cloak from where he lay. Slowly, slowly trying not to make a sound, he slipped from between the loose ropes, and into a crouching position.

"I should have done this years ago," The construct in Quirrell's body was saying. It raised its wand and pointed right between Snape's eyes.

" _Avada_ \- "

"NO!" Harry roared, springing to his feet and letting loose the most monstrous jet of energy he had ever summoned through his Ugandan wand. His fear and rage fuelled the enormous bolt of power that struck Quirrell's form, lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the far wall. Quirrell crumpled at the foot of the wall, motionless and lying at an unhealthy angle.

Immediately, Snape was able to move again. He snatched his wand from the floor, and he and Harry approached the still form of Quirrell warily, with their wands out. Quirrell was giggling. There was a large lump on his head.

"Quirinus the Queer," he sniggered to himself. "I showed them, didn't I? Look at me now.."

The apparition or construct that had briefly taken over his body had clearly receded and only Quirrell remained. Then Quirrell caught sight of Harry and Snape. A brief frown crossed his face. He lifted his arm weakly as though to curse them, and Harry leaned down to pry his wand from his hand. Harry had only meant to take his wand, but as his hand closed over Quirrell's wrist there was a terrible scream.

At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he staggered backwards, releasing Quirrel. The pain in his head lessened — he looked around wildly to see Quirrell, and saw him curling up in pain, looking at his wrist — it was blistering before his eyes.

"Kill him!" The rasping voice suddenly roared, and Quirrell clumsily pointed his wand at Harry.

" _Ava -_ "

" _Sectumsempra,_ " Snape hissed.

Blood spurted from Quirrell's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. Harry watched with horror as Quirrell howled and collapsed backwards, his face shining with blood.

"What...why did...can't you..."

Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his knees beside Quirrell,who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood.

"Leave him Potter," Snape said coldly. "He is almost dead."

Harry stood up, and watched beside Snape as Quirrell drowned horribly in blood. There was nothing they could do. The rasping voice began to shriek indecipherable words at them, and Harry winced as the voice reached an octave he had previously considered impossible. Then suddenly Quirrell went limp.

There was a dreadful scream, and a noxious cloud of black smoke suddenly seeped from the dead body of Quirrell. It seemed strangely alive, as it twisted and roiled. Then suddenly, without warning, it streaked away and vanished through one of the walls.

Harry felt sick. "Was that -"

"The last remnants of the dark Lord." Snape said, not sounding as calm as he usually did.

"Dead?"

"No. Hardly alive. But most certainly not dead."

"The stone?"

"Safe."

"Thank goodness," Harry murmured, hardly knowing what he was saying. He suddenly felt very tired, as though he hadn't slept for weeks. Everything had taken on artificial quality, as though he was moving through a dream. The destroyed chamber, the mirror and Quirrell's body all seemed far away. Harry looked down and realised he was standing in a pool of blood. It did not seem to matter very much.

"Mad-Eye won't be happy," Harry sighed.

"Indeed?"

"Don't think he likes you."

Harry stumbled, and Snape looked at him sharply.

"Potter? Are you well?"

"M'fine," Harry mumbled. Everything sounded like it was coming from far away.

"Potter, you really ..."

Harry heard nothing, as darkness overcame him and he fell blissfully into its depths. Quiet. Peace. At last.

\\\/

This might divide opinions, and that's alright. There's something out there for everyone. Thing is, Severus is my darling. Couldn't leave him out of the action for too long.

-Cas


	18. Dumbledore's Explanation

**Chapter Eighteen**

 **Disclaimer: JKR owns all the nice things. I also borrowed a couple of sentences from the original story, because I don't think they would have changed in this au. They're in bold.**

\\\/!

The next thing Harry knew, he was lying in a remarkably warm and comfortable bed and looking up at a lamp that was throwing a circle of golden light onto a shadowy ceiling. He raised his head awkwardly. There on his left was a familiar-looking, freckly, red-haired person. Beyond him, Harry could see a bushy brown head lying on a pillow turned away from him.

"Nice of you to drop in," said Ron, grinning.

Harry blinked and looked around. Of course: He was in the hospital wing. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. Harry couldn't tell if it was morning or evening. He looked around for any clue that might have told him what had happened, but couldn't see anything. Raising his head made his neck ache, and he felt exhausted.

"What happened?"

"Magical overexertion" said Madam Pomfrey, bustling up and pushing him back against his pillows. "From those ridiculous actions you took last night. You'll be fine no doubt, but you need rest."

"I don't want to rest," said Harry, sitting up and throwing back his covers. "I want to speak to Professor Snape."

"I'm afraid Potter, that while you are my patient you will do as I say," said Madam Pomfrey, pushing him firmly back onto the bed and raising her wand in a threatening manner. "You will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the headmaster."

"No need, Poppy. I am already here."

Harry spun his head to the doorway, where Professor Dumbledore was smiling genially. He had appeared as if by magic. Madam Pomfrey looked taken aback.

"I need to speak with Mr Potter," Dumbledore said. Madam Pomfrey looked disapproving, but contented herself with placing screens around Harry's bed so Ron and Hermione couldn't see. Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand, and Harry felt _whoosh_ as a spell took hold.

"There. Now we may speak without fear of being overheard," Professor Dumbledore smiled.

Harry wasn't smiling. "The stone. What happened to the stone?" He said urgently.

"My dear boy please calm yourself. The stone was concealed in the mirror, and neither Quirrell nor Voldemort succeeded in acquiring it. Thanks in no small part to the swift actions taken by Professor Snape and yourself." Dumbledore inclined his head to Harry.

"But what will happen to the stone?"

"I believe it will be destroyed."

"No!" Harry didn't mean to shout, but it came out loudly nonetheless. "No, what about Nick and Perry? They'll die!"

"You know Nicholas and Perenelle?" Dumbledore sounded delighted.

"We're neighbours."

" **To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."**

"Did you talk them into it?" Harry accused.

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Of course not. We had a conversation, and decided on the best course of action."

"They can't die. They haven't finished their...well, they haven't finished something. I know they wouldn't want to die before then. You protected the stone. Can't you protect them too?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry calmly for a long moment, and then nodded consideringly. "I have not discussed that with them. We will see," he said with a finality that announced the subject was closed.

Harry struggled to get his thoughts in order. So much had happened. Finally he formulated a question. "Down in the chamber, I grabbed Quirrell's arm to take his wand. It seemed to burn him. How is that possible?"

Dumbledore looked deep in thought for a moment, before looking at Harry with something in his eyes that Harry couldn't decipher. It seemed to be a strange kind of sadness, or perhaps pity.

" **Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."**

"Snape killed Quirrell," Harry said blankly. He looked down at his hands on top of the white linen sheets as though expecting them to be stained with blood.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore gravely. "Professor Snape had no choice when confronted with the possibility of facing Voldemort himself. Quirrell was unfortunately the victim of his own lust for power."

Harry frowned. Logically, he was prepared for the concept of death. But actually seeing someone bleed to death right in front of his eyes, even if that person had been an enemy, was nothing to take lightly. He felt afraid to close his eyes, lest he see Quirrell choking on his own blood behind his eyelids.

"Did Snape have to use that spell?" Harry burst out

"Which spell?"

"Sectum - something."

"Ah. Sectumsempra. Well I'm afraid we all go back to what we know best at difficult times. Professor Snape invented that spell, and was no doubt acting on the spur of the moment. An unforgivable would have raised the attention of the ministry."

"Still," Harry muttered. "He could have used something less...brutal."

"Alas Harry, we are none of us infallible. Professor Snape is as human as you or I."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said quietly, looking past the old man at a bird on the windowsill. "Why didn't you answer our questions at the beginning of the year?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed, and it was the deepest sigh Harry had ever heard the man give. "You are only eleven," he said softly. "And I had no desire to burden you with the truth. You had been raised in a foreign country, and had deceived us all as to your whereabouts for the last ten years. I spoke...hastily."

For some reason Harry was reminded of Kingsley. The younger auror was not afraid to clash with Mad-Eye when he felt the older man was teaching Harry things too old for him. It frustrated Harry, for though he knew Kingsley meant well, he had come to the conclusion somewhere in the middle of his first lesson on death eaters that he would rather be prepared.

"The truth might have helped last night."

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "Yes," he admitted to Harry's surprise. "I came to much the same conclusion myself."

Harry stared. As he watched, Professor Dumbledore pulled from his pocket a familiar piece of parchment. Harry could have recited the contents backwards. It was the list of questions Harry had given Dumbledore so many months ago. It seemed like a lifetime now.

 _For the perusal of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 _1) Why was Harry not released to the custody of Sirius Black on the night of Halloween 1981? Sirius Black was his godfather and therefore should have been contacted immediately, according to the Wizarding Custody Law clause 8 section 2 which states that magically binding godparents take precedence over relatives._

 _2) How do you intend to ensure Harry can begin defence training at Hogwarts in preparation for the trials ahead of him?_

 _3) When do you intend to look into the absence of trial for Sirius Black, and why have you not done so before now?_

 _4) What is your evidence that Severus Snape is not a death eater?_

 _5) Why did Lord Voldemort target Harry Potter?_

 _6) Why was Lord Voldemort unable to kill Harry Potter?_

 _7) What is the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries labeled:_

 _S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D  
Dark Lord  
and (?) Harry Potter_

"Harry, I owe you an explanation,' said Dumbledore. 'An explanation of an old man's mistake. For I see now that what I have done, and not done, with regard to you this year, bears all the hallmarks of the failings of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten, lately."

The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Dumbledore, upon the silver of his eyebrows and beard, upon the lines gouged deeply into his face.

"Will you answer the questions then sir?" Harry asked.

"Not all of the questions are mine to answer," Dumbledore warned.

"Try. Why did you leave me with the Dursleys, rather than sending me to Sirius, when you knew it was illegal?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "A hard question to answer, in retrospect. Had I known you would be taken from their care within days, perhaps I would have acted differently. However I did not realise how deeply the animosity between your mother and her sister went, and hoped you could find a home there."

"But why?"

"My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realised. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters - and many of them are almost as terrible as he - were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone for ever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.

"I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.

"But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated - to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"But it didn't work," Harry said bitterly. "She didn't want me. She gave me to the first wizard to show up on the doorstep."

Try as he might, Harry couldn't fully conceal the hurt in his voice at this rejection. Dumbledore pretended for a moment to be very interested in Harry's bedcovers, to give Harry a moment to wipe his eyes. There was a clattering noise at the end of the infirmary, and Harry jumped. There seemed to be some kind of disturbance, but neither Harry nor Dumbledore investigated.

"Yes," Dumbledore said after a moment, and his voice was gentler. "A mistake. I underestimated your aunt's feelings. However, you would have been safe there. While you could still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."

"But Voldemort never found me in Uganda, did he?" Harry said accusingly.

"No. But I was looking for the strongest protection I could offer you within the options you had. I did not consider the possibility that you might be adopted by another."

The clattering noise was getting louder, and Harry could hear a man's voice arguing with Madam Pomfrey. Harry wished they'd stop. He was having enough trouble taking in everything Dumbledore was saying. Suddenly one of the screens around the bed was wrenched away. Standing there, looking as though he hadn't slept in weeks from the dark circles under his eyes, was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Harry! Oh thank Merlin. I got an owl in the middle of the night saying Voldemort was in the school. I came as soon as I could but I was worried I would be too late..."

Kingsley wrapped Harry in his arms, and Harry could feel the tall man shaking. He had never seen Kingsley like this before; he was usually so composed. It was a vivid reminder that over a decade ago, Kingley had lost his own young wife and two children to death eaters. After holding Harry for a long moment, Kingsley pulled back and looked at Harry anxiously.

"You're alright? You're not hurt? What happened?" Then Kingsley caught sight of Dumbledore. "You! What do you think you're doing letting the Dark Lord enter the school? My son could have been killed! Mark my words this is the last straw Dumbledore..."

"Mr Shacklebolt." Dumbledore's voice was quiet, but firm. "Harry is quite well. Last night was a terrible mistake."

As Professor Dumbledore explained to Kingsley what had happened, Harry let his mind wander. He had no desire to relive the events. All he was focussed on was Kingsley's words. _My son could have been killed...my son._ A warm feeling rose up inside Harry and he felt as though the events of the previous night had suddenly happened to someone else. What did it matter if his aunt hadn't wanted him? He was Kingsley's son. Harry felt a deep rush of love as he looked at the dark man gesticulating and arguing with Dumbledore.

"Just wait until Alastor hears about this," Kingsley was saying threateningly. "What kind of a school are you running here Dumbledore?"

"Stop," Harry said. Kingsley looked surprised. "It's not his fault," Harry continued, hardly knowing what he was saying. "Quirrell was possessed, wasn't he? No-one could have known that."

"Harry you could have been killed -"

"Yes, and that's what happens when a dark Lord is trying to get rid of you," Harry said. "But he's still alive. I saw him escape the castle. He'll be back, and we've simply got to get it together before then. Kingsley, you and Mad-Eye raised me to be prepared for this. But I haven't been able to prepare this year, not really. And look what happened! Professor Dumbledore sir, I wonder if you could refer to the second question on the list?"

 _"How do you intend to ensure Harry can begin defence training at Hogwarts in preparation for the trials ahead of him?"_ Dumbledore read.

"Answering that question and helping us build a solid foundation might have made a huge difference last night," Kingsley said.

Dumbledore looked at them both, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I think we can accommodate this," he agreed. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

Kingsley though, wasn't finished. "That's all very well Albus," he said in a more measured tone. "But what about our other questions?"

Dumbledore didn't even glance at the list. "I hope after last night, you no longer require evidence that Severus is on our side," he said.

Harry nodded. "I know. I believe him." Kingsley made a disbelieving noise, but Harry shook his head, indicating he would explain later.

"As for the last three questions..they are all tied in together with the prophecy, I'm afraid. And I must ask how on earth you discovered its existence."

Harry thought Dumbledore should have already guessed. What with Mad-Eye working in the ministry and being well known for putting his nose where it didn't belong, it was inevitable that this nose might have ended up down the Department of Mysteries at least once. Kingsley explained this shortly to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed. His eyes behind his glasses looked very tired. "The prophecy," he said at last. "A heavy burden, knowledge. You only eleven Harry. Are you sure you want to hear this? It will affect you forever, and it cannot be unheard."

"Of course I want to know," Harry said indignantly. "Forewarned is forearmed."

Dumbledore looked intently at Harry, who met his gaze steadily. Whatever Dumbledore found there seemed to satisfy him, for he sighed and nodded, rubbing a hand across tired eyes. "Very well," he said.

"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired.

The sun had risen fully now: the hospital wing was bathed in it, it shone through the screens around Harry's bed. The glass of water beside the bed gleamed white and opaque, the reflection from Dumbledore's gold rimmed glasses sparkled, and behind him, Harry could hear the soft murmuring of voices in the rest of the room.

"The prophecy was made to you, wasn't it?" Harry said. " _S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D"_

"It was," said Dumbledore. " **One night eleven years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."**

"And then?"

"And then she changed. Her voice was different, and she no longer saw me. She made what I knew to be a true prophecy."

"What was it?"

Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry and Kingsley for a long moment, and then spoke again. " _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . ."_

The silence within the hospital wing was absolute. Neither Dumbledore nor Harry nor Kingsley made a sound. Even the voices in the rest of the wing had fallen silent.

"And you kept this from us?" Kingsley said quietly. "You, in your infinite wisdom, thought you had the right to keep this from Harry and his family?"

Harry was still trying to process what it meant. He looked at Kingsley desperately, who understood. "It means," he said, 'that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly twelve years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

Harry felt as though something was closing in on him. The joy of a moment ago had disappeared. His breathing seemed difficult again.

"It means - me?"

Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses. "Do you now understand why I concealed the truth?" He said, a little sadly.

Kingsley looked displeased, but nodded slowly. "I understand, but disagree. Harry needed to know."

"You know him best," Dumbledore said softly. Harry looked up to see a profound sadness in Dumbledore's eyes, as he surveyed Harry.

\\\/

" _Harry!_ "

When the screens were removed from around Harry's bed, Harry was bombarded by his three best friends. Ron was sitting up in bed. Neville was in the chair by Ron's bed, and Hermione was perched on the end of Ron's bed. There was a fading bruise at her temple, but otherwise no sign of her encounter with the white queen. Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to — Dumbledore was so worried —"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened? Hermione told me the first bit, but no-one knows what happened after that.

Harry told them everything: Snape; Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron, Neville and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places. When Harry told them about how Snape had appeared just in time to save Hermione, Ron looked appalled.

"Him! The greasy bat!"

"He saved Hermione's life, and probably mine Ron," said Harry.

"Still," Ron grumbled, looking quite disappointed that Snape hadn't been in league with Quirrell after all.

"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.

"Well, I woke up here" said Hermione. "Ron said Madam Pomfrey was just giving him his potion when Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore brought you and I both in Harry. Apparently we were both unconscious. Ron thought Snape had killed us both."

Ron looked embarrassed. "Yeah well you were both knocked out, and Harry was covered in blood," he grumbled.

"What about you Neville?"

"I got the letter off to Kingsley," Neville said, looking distressed. "I was just going to find Hermione when I bumped into Dumbledore in the entrance hall — he already knew — he just said, 'Harry's gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did — I mean to say that's terrible — you could have been killed."

"Actually," said Harry thoughtfully, "I think Snape might have alluded to it in the chamber. We were talking about the chess set, and he said something like "Weasley was supposed to be with you," or something...He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to test me. Maybe even test my loyalties.. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he wanted to test us."

"We couldn't do it though, could we?" Hermione said forlornly, touching a hand to her head.

"Yeah about that!" Ron said suddenly. "It's not fair. McGonagall's giant chess set...I can't believe I didn't get a shot at it and you two did!"

"I wasn't there either," said Neville sadly. "But I'm no good with that kind of thing, I'd have held you up."

"Don't be stupid Neville," Harry said. "It should have been all four of us down there. Not two, not one, not me and Snape. All of us."

"Next time let's stick together then?" Ron suggested.

"There better not be a next time," Hermione said shrilly. Ron made a retort, and Harry chuckled as they began to bicker. It felt good to have things back to normal.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore's given permission for me to start proper defense training next year. I think you should all do it too."

Neville nodded instantly, as did Ron. Hermione though looked less sure.

"Do you really think we'll need it?" She asked uncertainly.

Harry didn't want to tell them about the prophecy. Not yet. It wasn't as though he expected them to stop being friends with him once they heard, but he felt like a marked man. It would take a little getting used to, and probably a lot of conversation with Kingsley and Mad-Eye before he felt comfortable telling anyone else.

"I just think it's a good idea," he said evasively, and then changed the subject by asking Neville about the Devil's Snare.

\\\/

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Daphne at the Slytherin table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him. He looked instead up at the high table. Professor Snape was looking at him. As their eyes met, Harry gave a small nod. He received a short one in return return, and grinned as he returned his gaze to the table. Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, not a trace of his earlier sorrow on his face. "And I would like to congratulate you all on another year of learning, and hope your heads are a little fuller than they were. Now as I understand it, the house cups need awarding. Therefore it is with great pleasure that I announce SLYTHERIN as the winners of the house cup!"

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. The other houses applauded almost noiselessly, and Harry noticed some students - particularly the older ones - not bringing their hands together at all. Then Harry saw something that made him smile. He nudged Ron.

"What?" Ron shouted over the noise of their housemates.

Harry pointed. Alone amongst their stony-faced house members, Hermione and Neville were applauding loudly and enthusiastically, beaming at the Slytherin table. Harry inclined his head to them, a large grin threatening to appear on his face. Up at the staff table, Professor Snape was lazily accepting the congratulations of the other staff members.

"I love being a Slytherin!" Ron roared, watching his three Gryffindor brothers with glee.

\\\/

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. Hermione and Harry had tied for top place, with Neville and Ron both coming in the top ten. Neville's mark was dragged down by his potions grade, but his excellent performance in all other subjects more than made up for it. Malfoy also scored surprisingly highly, which was disappointing, especially as they never saw him open a book. Hermione looked particularly smug when Harry told her Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle had received the lowest three places respectively.

The day before term ended, Harry visited Professor Snape's office. As he stood outside, he mentally reviewed the words he had rehearsed. But when the silky voice told him to enter, he suddenly decided his intended words were all wrong, and invented others on the spot.

"Good afternoon Professor Snape."

"Mr Potter, what can I do for you?"

Snape was at his desk, a cauldron set up in front of him which he was eyeing with concentration. It looked like Veritaserum to Harry, and he remembered in the rush of events towards the end of term, he had never gotten any from the Weasley twins. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he realised Snape was waiting for an answer.

"I wanted to thank you Professor," Harry said at last.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Thank me?"

"For saving Hermione. And helping defeat Quirrell," Harry clarified, leaning into the cauldron to get a better look.

"Don't breathe in the fumes," Snape said sharply, confirming Harry's suspicion that it was Veritaserum. "As for thanking me Potter...I am the head of Slytherin house. It is my job to ensure no members of Slytherin get themselves killed before the end of the year "

Harry laughed; he couldn't help it. "Very well, Professor," he said. "But you know, Hermione's a Ravenclaw."

Snape scowled. "Are you being impertinent Potter?"

"No sir, just discussing the houses," Harry said glibly.

"Good. Do you need anything else?"

"Just one thing sir," Harry said softly. He hadn't known he was going to ask this until now, but he simply had to know.

"That red-haired Gryffindor that Quirrell was taunting you about...was that my mother?"

If possible, Snape's sallow face paled even further, and his knuckles turned white as they gripped the cauldron stirrer. He opened his mouth several times and closed it again, seemed momentarily on the verge of shouting, and finally, through great force of will, seemed to make himself relax.

"Yes," Snape said simply. He offered no further information, and Harry knew better than to ask. No point rushing in and ruining things. He had learnt that lesson from the time he confronted Snape about his father and Sirius. Slowly, slowly, piece by piece. That was the way. Harry merely nodded, and thanked Snape for his time, before turning to leave.

"Potter."

Harry turned back to the sour man.

"Yes?"

"You also did well against Quirrell. When the Dark Lord appeared, I was disarmed. I...I also owe you my life."

Harry could see every word costing the potions master an enormous effort, and his face twisted even as he said it. Harry smiled and demurred. This was the best he could have hoped for. As the door closed behind him, Harry reflected that Snape being innocent might not be such a bad thing after all.

\\\/

Before they knew it, the end of term was upon them. He and Ron were hunting odd socks; loading their trunks and hefting them up the stairs until Harry gave up and levitated them; visiting Hagrid to say goodbye; collecting Vapour from the owlery; sailing across the lake in the fleet of boats; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

They queued up together get off the platform, levitation charms cancelled, lifting the full weight of their heavy trunks. An old guard was letting them leave in twos and threes.

"You'll have to come and visit Uganda this summer," said Harry. "All of you. I'll send you an owl - it'll be amazing.."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, seeming quite overwhelmed. "Wizarding Uganda is _fascinating_ , I'm so excited! There's so much we can learn there!"

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry who chuckled. "Don't forget you're coming to the Burrow too," Ron said. "We're having a quidditch week!"

Neville and Hermione both paled at this news, and Harry smirked. People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Enjoy your summer," Malfoy hissed, shoving past them. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Oh let me hex him," Ron said longingly. "Just once.."

"Maybe not in front of Lucius," Harry said firmly, pushing Ron's wand hand down. "Save it for next year. I'll tell you what; we'll get Mad-Eye to teach us some new hexes this summer! Mad-Eye doesn't care who we use them on, he reckons it's good practice."

Kingsley was waiting for Harry on the platform, as they exited, resplendent in his traditional African robes. Harry hugged him warmly, his mood lifting another notch as he thought of how soon he would be reunited with his odd collection of family. He was eager to properly meet Sirius Black, and to see Mad-Eye again.

"Ready to go?" Kingsley asked, smiling at Harry.

"Yep," Harry said happily, smiling at his three friends.

"I'll see you very soon," he promised. Then he walked out of King's Cross with Kingsley, prepared for what looked like it was going to be the best summer of his life.

\\\/

 **END OF YEAR ONE**

\\\/

 **Six weeks in and we're done with year one! This writing thing is so much fun, and is the only thing keeping me sane in the throes of motherhood, as little Caspian attempts to drive me slowly mad. (Three guesses where I nicked my pen name from)**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to read this. As someone who trawls through constantly, I know how brilliant some of the stories out there are, and I'm very honoured that people choose to read mine.**

 **Next up: Summer, and year two. The next installment is up on Wednesday.**

 **\- Cas**


	19. Chapter 19

**Year Two**

 **Chapter One**

 **This chapter broke my heart. Two nights ago I stayed up until 2am to finish it, and then finally went to sleep. When I woke up, the document was blank like the chapter never existed. Nothing I did managed to recover it - it was just gone. So I had to rewrite the entire thing from memory. That'll teach me to back things up in the future...**

 **This chapter gives a lot of information about where Harry grew up. I've lived all over the world, but Uganda is a place I have never visited. Virtually all of the information in this chapter comes from books, Google, or I made it up.**

\\\/

It was a sweltering hot Ugandan night. The man and the boy were perched on stools on the second floor balcony of the restaurant, overlooking the square below. Although white tourists were common in the summer months, the unusual sight of the black man and the white boy drinking together drew curious looks from the other diners, but they seemed oblivious as they conversed in quiet tones.

"When are they arriving?" Harry was asking Kingsley. He was uncomfortably hot, even though he had changed into his Ugandan summer robes. The robes consisted of great swathes of black linen that fell from the shoulders like a loose sleeveless tunic, and belted around the waist with thick dragon hide. He went barefoot, like most children. They were drinking bottles of cool _lubisi_ , or banana beer, and from their high stools they could see the busy square below, bustling with people in spite of the late hour

"Any minute now," said Kingsley, checking his watch. Harry turned hopefully as the door to the balcony opened, but it was another family. From their coal-black skin, Harry recognised them as Karojavans from the western region of Uganda. Two giggling little girls ran ahead of their parents, their white smiles flashing brightly in their dark faces.

"How did Sirius and Mad-Eye get into the country anyway?" Harry asked. Magical Uganda was famous for not liking foreign visitors. The country had existed in a state of civil war since the 1980s, and was deeply suspicious of outsiders. The only way to enter the country was through a portal with a constantly changing location - and the only way to locate it was with the assistance of someone on the inside.

"Maama," Kingsley smiled, raising his bottle to his lips.

"Are they going to be safe?"

"Of course. The village is pretty far away from the main cities, and not to mention you know Ugandans don't read the British news. Nobody knows who Sirius Black is."

Harry nodded and took a sip, tracing his hot fingers over the cool glass bottle, enjoying the sensation of the slick condensation. He watched the family with the two little girls ordering their food.

"Is Lupin going to be coming over this summer?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Oh didn't I say?" Kingsley said with surprise. "He's already there. Mad-Eye was having a bit of trouble getting Sirius to come out of his shell, so he brought Lupin over last month. Thought a friendly face might help."

"Great." Harry smiled broadly. Werewolves weren't exactly prolific in Uganda, but certainly more common than the rest of the world, largely because they weren't persecuted under the laws of the country. Uganda had a number of vicious laws compared to Britain, but for some reason none of them pertained to werewolves. In fact the leader of the largest rebel faction in the country, Lubiyo Wabudeya was a well-known werewolf, famous for his malicious targeting of children.

"Got to make sure Wabudeya doesn't get wind of him," Kingsley said, reading Harry's mind.

"He should be safe," Harry said frowning. "Nobody knows he's a werewolf, and he can look after himself. Not to mention Mad-Eye is there."

"I know, but we can never be too careful. A British werewolf would be quite the coup for Wabudeya. You know what Mad-Eye would say..."

"Constant vigilance," Harry and Kingsley chorused, bursting out laughing. Harry raised his bottle to clink with Kingsley's and they both drank.

"Think you're funny do you Potter?" A voice growled from behind them.

"Mad-Eye!" Harry jumped from his stool and embraced the older auror, who had entered the balcony silently. Not even an African summer could convince Mad-Eye to change his traditional Wizarding robes for something more suited to the climate, and he was wearing his usual attire. The family of Karojavans looked quite alarmed by his appearance.

"I don't even need to check you," Mad-Eye scowled, patting Harry fondly on the back. "Nobody else is stupid enough to mock me where I can hear them. Were you followed?" The last question was directed at Kingsley, who was draining the last dregs of his lubisi.

"No," Kingsley said confidently

"You sure?" Mad-Eye said suspiciously, his magical eye whizzing in all directions. "These people can be very clever."

"I'm sure Alastor," Kingsley said impatiently.

Suddenly Harry realised there was another man standing in the shadows of the balcony beside Mad-Eye. Seeing Harry notice him, Sirius Black stepped into the light with a sheepish grin. The months away from Azkaban had wrought a change in Sirius. His face was no longer skeletal, but had filled out and looked healthy. His hair had been cut to shoulder length, and his grimy beard had been shaved. He looked decades younger.

"Hello Harry," he said. "How are you?"

"Sirius!" Harry said, delighted to see the man. "Good to meet you properly at last. I'm great. How are you?"

"Better than I have been in years," Sirius grinned. "And I've got you to thank for that. Can't believe a group of eleven year olds masterminded a plan to break me out of the top security prison on earth."

"Shut your trap Black," Mad-Eye growled, his magical eye spinning to stare at the Karojavans, who were eying them with considerable alarm. "Let's get out of here before your mouth alerts the locals."

Harry slid down from his stool, wriggling his toes in enjoyment as they touched the rough wooden floor. After a year of wearing shoes, it felt strange to be barefoot again. His feet felt more sensitive, as though they had lost some of their protective callouses over the past year. They left the restaurant, Kingsley paying at the bar with a handful of muggle UGX shillings. Sirius stared with interest at the muggle money, and Harry wondered if he had left the village at all in the previous months. Mad-Eye was certainly paranoid enough to keep him there.

Outside in the square, crowds jostled them cheerfully. Snatches of song came from nearby bars, and raucous voices filled the air. In no time at all, Kingsley had flagged down a couple of _boda bodas_ ; small taxi motorbikes, the traditional Ugandan public transportation. Sirius's face filled with glee when he saw the bikes.

"I had a flying one once," he said rapturously, staring. "Wonder if I could get another one."

"Black, what did I say about watching your mouth," Mad-Eye said threateningly. "You get on this bike with Shacklebolt. Potter, with me."

Luckily the smiling drivers didn't seem to understand English, as they made no response to Sirius's words. "Where are we going?" Harry asked Mad-Eye, sliding onto the seat.

"Mbalwa," Mad-Eye grunted, horribly mangling the pronunciation. "The main park."

Harry relayed the instructions to the driver in Swahili, who nodded and smiled. Then they took off at high speed. The _boda bodas_ were rickety little deathtraps, whizzing in and out of the traffic on the roads at high speed, beeping their horns madly. They overtook cars, buses and bicycles, and Harry heard Sirius whooping madly behind them. Soon, the bright lights of Kampala faded into the distance behind them.

Mbalwa was only a short distance away, and the park was in the centre of the little town. It seemed almost no time at all before they were approaching the darkened park entrance. Harry slid from the seat, and thanked the driver. Mad-Eye stumbled off the bike groaning.

"Can't you find us another way to get around?" The old auror said to Kingsley. "My bones can't take this."

"Don't pretend to be all decrepit now," Kingsley sighed. "You've got more life in you than most people half your age."

"I need one of those," Sirius said, gazing at the bikes with undisguised longing as their rear lights disappeared into the distance.

They moved quietly into the darkened park, sticking together. Almost everywhere was safe at night in Uganda, and they had wands - but there was no point inviting trouble. As they followed one of the little paths, another thought occurred to Harry.

"Why didn't Remus come with you?" He asked curiously

Sirius snorted. "He wanted to, but the kids wouldn't let him," he chortled.

"Naeme and Muhindo?" Kingsley asked. "My niece and nephew?"

"Those are the ones," Sirius nodded. "They can't get enough of him. Moony's got that wolfy strength and throws them all over the place. They love it. Moony's great with kids." There was an odd, wistful tone to Sirius's voice. Harry turned to look at him curiously, but the man wasn't looking at him.

"There it is," Mad-Eye growled, gesturing up ahead. Harry looked and saw two enormous trees, with a bare reddish patch of earth between them. The trees were behemoth's, reaching towards the sky with massive branches like reaching arms. Between them, the air shimmered oddly like the heat above a fire.

"That's it alright," Kingsley said. "Anti-muggle charms everywhere."

"All ready now? We'll do it in twos. You first Potter, with Shacklebolt," Mad-Eye directed.

They stepped forward, and through the shimmering patch of air. For a moment everything went white, and the world flashed and blurred around them. It was like stepping through a cool waterfall. Then suddenly they were walking out into the bright sunshine. Magical Uganda had approximately a six hour time difference to the muggle world, and it was early morning.

"Home," said Harry, letting the sunshine wash over him. They were standing at the highest edge of a rich verdant valley spread out beneath them. The ground beneath their feet was a deep rust red, and already slightly warm. At the very foot of the valley was the Namiya Village. They couldn't see much except the tops of the houses from this vantage point. Here and there, deep purple clouds of smoke rose from outdoor cookfires.

"The rains were good this year?" Harry asked Kingsley.

"Rained until June," Kingsley confirmed, eyeing the rich greenery.

"This is the life," Sirius said, stepping through the portal after them and throwing his arms wide. "Fresh air , sunshine..."

Now they were in the light, Harry could see Sirius properly. He had developed a tan, and was wearing sleeveless brown linen robes with a black snakeskin belt, in a style similar to Harry's. He looked surprisingly muscular for a man who had just spent ten years in prison, and Harry commented on this. "Looking good Sirius," he said curiously. "They've been putting you to work?"

"Been helping with the _Uchawi Pamba_ harvest," Sirius grinned. "All hands on deck."

The main exports from the region were the various magical plants that the villagers grew across the valley. The plants were often highly sensitive to magical influence, and had to be exhaustedly harvested by hand. This took the combined efforts of the entire village, and Harry had no doubt they would have been glad of the extra help.

The walk down to the village was via a narrow dirt track that they took in single file. As they walked, Harry gazed around him taking in the smells and sights of his home. All around them, stumpy leafy banana trees nestled side by side with tall towering evergreens. Mango and pawpaw trees littered the rainforest, groaning under the weight of their plump, heavy fruits, while brightly coloured birds flashed from branch to branch, filling the valley with birdsong. The very air was sweet, and pregnant with the scent of fermentation.

In no time at all they were entering the quiet little village. Quiet, but not empty. In spite of the early hour, here and there elegant, dark-skinned women could be seen moving about their business. Some were carrying gourd's of water from the narrow stream that ran nearby, or crouching around purple lavender fires sending up violet smoke into the air, and conversing quietly. As they moved further into the village, eyes followed them. A pair of goats wandered across their path, chewing on a handful of leaves. They had six legs apiece, but otherwise seemed quite normal.

The houses were perfectly round, and made of rich red mud that had been allowed to dry in the sun. They were covered in runes carved into their surface by magical means, to strengthen the walls, make them impervious to weather, and protect the inhabitants. Each mud hut had a beautifully constructed conical grass roof, and many of them sported unusual colours; vermilion red; emerald green; cerulean; viridian; sapphire; deep ruby red. When seen from above they resembled nothing so much as a collection of jewels.

Kingsley's mother lived at the very edge of the village, in a hut slightly larger than most. By the doorway, a gourd was propped up by a rough, weathered branch that diverged in a V shape. Traditionally, this signified that the occupant had given birth to twins. The roof was a pale lavender that contrasted with the deep red walls. Harry wasn't an expert on runes, but he could tell you that the three largest runes above the doorway stood for _amani, nguvu, familia_ , or _peace, strength, family._

Harry rapped his knuckles on the leather hide that hung across the doorway. Before he could enter the hut, a whirlwind of a woman ran out of the doorway and threw herself into Kingsley's arms with a cry.

" _Mwanangu!_ My son! Such a bad boy, leaving your poor maama all alone for so long," the little woman cried, banging her fists on Kingsley's broad chest. Kingsley's mother was very small, and almost perfectly round. She had a round head perched on top of her round body, covered in tightly curled grey hair, and a wide smile that lit up her face.

"Maama, you were hardly alone," Kingsley protested, lifting the woman easily to embrace her, and kissing her cheek. "You had Nabirye and the twins."

"Tch, abandoning your poor maama," Kingsley's mother continued, ignoring him. Then she caught sight of Harry.

"My little _mjukuu!_ How we missed you this year in the rains," she said, embracing him tightly. "You must tell your Bibi all about your school! We are all so excited in the village to hear about the magic you learn in _Uingereza,_ the place of the white people."

"Of course Bibi," Harry smiled, as they all followed the tiny woman into the hut. Inside it was much larger than it looked from the outside. The doorway opened straight into the spacious central room. It was perfectly round, with no furniture but large red cushions scattered around the edges, and coloured woven rugs on the earth floor. There were windows, but to increase the light, large white orbs hovered around the ceiling, casting a bright glow. In the centre of the room a purple hearth fire crackled merrily, emitting no smoke. There were several doorways around the room, covered with leather drapes.

Bibi bustled around busying herself with ladeling bowls of maize porridge and sweet bean sauce from an iron cooking pot that hovered obediently over the fire. They sat on the cushions as she passed out the bowls, and ate while talking. Harry grew hoarse as he described the events of the year, his porridge growing cold as he talked on and on. Sirius watched Harry intently, lines appearing on his face as Harry's story finished with the battle with Quirrell.

"Snape helped you?" Sirius said incredulously. " _Snape?_ "

"He saved our lives," Harry said warningly. Sirius saw Harry's expression and dropped the subject, which relieved Harry. He had just met his godfather, the last thing he wanted was any kind of conflict.

After breakfast was eaten and the bowls were soaping themselves merrily in the river, Harry and Sirius took a walk through the village together. "So you grew up here your whole life?" Sirius asked.

"Well, since, you know.."

"Lily and James. Yeah."

"You must have been very close," Harry said curiously.

"James was the best friend I ever had," Sirius said, his voice wavering slightly. They stopped by the river, watching a group of children playing in the shallows. They seemed to be competing to see who could levitate a pebble the highest over the water, and were screeching with joy at their achievements.

"I spent a lot of time in England with Mad-Eye too," Harry said, tactfully changing the subject as he suspected that Sirius wasn't quite ready to discuss Harry's parents yet. Much as he was desperate to know more, Kingsley had warned Harry that a decade in prison had left deep internal scars on the man.

"He's a nutter, isn't he?" Sirius said, cheering up. They began to stroll again.

"Bonkers," Harry agreed. "Did you know for my fifth birthday he gave me a set of five different truth serums with an instructions manual on how to build up a resistance to each?"

"What happened?" Sirius asked, smiling broadly.

"Well you were supposed to take a tiny dosage of each until it stopped working, and then increase the dosage slowly. Being a five year old, I took the full dosage to see what happened."

"And?"

"I told Bibi she was so fat she looked like an elderly black snowman with bits of snow coming out of its head."

Sirius burst out laughing. "Oh Merlin. What did she do?"

"Well first of all she had to ask Kingsley what a snowman was. Once she found out, she spanked me and then put me on shit shovelling duty for a week."

Sirius roared with laughter, startling a couple of nearby birds into taking flight in alarm. "Total nutcase, Mad-Eye," he said fondly. "But without him, I'd still be stuck in that pit, so I have to be grateful."

"I'm sorry it took us so long," Harry said softly. "It was just so hard to find the truth."

"Hey don't go beating yourself up about it," Sirius said, coming to a halt and turning to face Harry. "You got me out. That's more than enough for me - more than I ever expected to happen."

"You should never have been in there," Harry said stubbornly.

"No, but your parents shouldn't have died," Sirius said seriously. "I got the better deal, and since coming to this place, I'm finding myself grateful every day to be alive."

"Are you enjoying life here then?" Harry asked curiously. It was all he had ever known, but he supposed compared to Britain it would seem strange to a newcomer.

"Enjoying it? Harry it's wonderful here. The climate, the people. All you have to do is do your share of the work, and be friendly, and people are friendly back to you. I've spent years wishing for this kind of life."

Harry smiled as they walked on through the village, passing a group of several women clustered around a fire. A group of younger girls wearing the more modest clothing commonly adopted by unmarried women were standing a short distance away, talking behind their hands. When Harry and Sirius passed, they shot the tall man mischievous looks and giggled, whispering to each other. Sirius pretended not to notice, and they slowly meandered their way back to Bibi's hut, speaking of inconsequential things. Sirius wanted to know everything he could about Harry's life, and how he could fit into it as a godfather.

When they arrived back at the hut, Harry was barely in the door before he was attacked.

"Harry! _Harry!"_

Two little children hurtled across the room, throwing themselves at Harry with squeals of joy. They were only five, and wore their tightly curled hair cropped short to their heads.

"Naeme! Muhindo," Harry greeted them, picking the little girl up and spinning her in his arms. Naeme yelled happily as he threw her over one shoulder.

"Out! Out!" Bibi shouted, brandishing a cooking ladle at them. "Making a mess of my house, I think not! Tch!"

"Harry come," Muhindo implored, tugging on Harry's hand. "Merlin, Alastor and Moody had puppies!"

Merlin, Alastor and Moody were the names of the three individual heads of the village Cerberus. Muhindo had named the middle head Merlin, and so determined not to be left out, Naeme had immediately insisted that the other two heads be referred to as Alastor and Moody. Nobody had dared ask Mad-Eye what he thought of this arrangement.

Cerberus puppies were very cute, Harry had to admit to himself. The tiny pups gambolled around the village square, their little bodies barely keeping their three heads above the ground as they sniffed madly at everything. Their mother lay on the ground, two of her heads snoring loudly, the third with one eye closed, one eye open keeping a lazy watch over her puppies.

"When did she have puppies?" Harry asked, amused.

"Jus' last week," Naeme explained, pulling Harry over for a closer look. "An 'Hindo an me got to watch!"

Harry wondered if he should introduce the twins to Hagrid. He wasn't entirely sure that even as a five year old he would have jumped at the opportunity to watch a three-headed dog give birth - Merlin/Alastor/Moody was singularly vicious on a normal day. But Naeme was beaming at Harry as though under the impression he was very envious of her great treat, and he smiled weakly back at her.

"That's...wonderful."

The middle head Merlin opened both her eyes and growled softly as they came closer to the puppies. One of the giant paws twitched.

"Er...maybe we should go and see Bibi again," Harry said nervously. As a child, it had been a great game to see how close they could get to the Cerberus before having to break into song, but Harry felt acutely responsible for the two little children hanging off him, and decided he would prefer _not_ to have to explain to their mother why they were missing a limb on his first day home.

"Is Aunt Nabirye at home?" Harry asked. The twins mother lived in the same dwelling, as was common for the families in this village. When homes could be expanded with magic to fit every arrival, there was little need to move out.

"Maama!" The twins cheered, rushing away. Harry followed in their wake, shaking his head at their boundless energy.

The first day was spent settling in, unpacking his trunk and catching up with the local villagers. Ugandans were long-winded, and it was considered impolite to not enquire after the health of everyone that one should encounter, particularly after a long spell away. Harry was entreated by the local children he had attended primary school with to show them the spells he had learnt, and there was much examination of his Ollivander wand, and many exclamations at the things he could do with incantations. Many of Harry's old school friends now looked at him with undisguised awe, embarrassing him greatly.

In the evening they all gathered around the central fire in the main village square. The enormous purple fire sent up violet smoke that proved to be luminous in the dark, bathing the whole village in an eerie glow. The women sang songs, the rich African harmonies weaving in and out of the melody, making the Cerberus puppies drop to the ground in little slumbering heaps wherever they happened to be when the music began.

Harry sat on a large log adapted to be a bench, and found himself between Sirius and Remus. The latter had been caught up with the twins most of the day - he seemed to have been appointed their unofficial babysitter. Harry's Aunt Nabirye had been only too delighted to have extra hands to help with the twins, who were quite a handful for one person.

"How's it going Remus?" Harry smiled, glad to have a chance to catch up with the werewolf.

"Wonderful," Remus smiled. "So good to have Sirius back. I thought all of my friends were lost forever, and now..."

"Don't get soppy on me Moony," Sirius warned, laughter in his voice. "You know I don't do soppy."

"Don't I just." Remus rolled his eyes. "Anyway I'm glad to have a chance to catch up with you Harry. Kingsley told me what happened at the end of term."

"I know," Harry said, shaking his head. "It could have been a disaster."

"You got lucky," Remus agreed. "But Kingsley said Dumbledore has given you permission to start extra defence training next year?"

"Yes, I'm not sure who with yet though. Kingsley is always busy at the ministry, and Mad-Eye will probably still be here with Sirius. No-one else can afford to just hang around Hogwarts all year."

"They can if they already have a job there," Remus said cryptically.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Remus said, puffing out his chest. "Let's just say you're looking at the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"You're joking!" Harry yelped. He could see at once that Remus had been bursting to tell him this news.

"No. Kingsley had a word with Dumbledore right after Quirrell was killed. Told Dumbledore he knew just the person to replace him."

"So you'll be at Hogwarts next year?" Harry couldn't believe his luck.

"Start September the first," Remus said proudly.

"But what about you Sirius?" Harry asked.

"I've got lots of options," Sirius said cheerfully. "Stay here. Return to Britain. I'm leaning towards returning to Britain though - best to be close in case something happens."

Harry sat back, watching the purple flames dancing. Everything seemed to be falling into place. His godfather was free and well, and a man he considered practically family was going to be at Hogwarts with them. Harry felt like joining in the singing, but settled for congratulating Remus again, and pouring him another drink.

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The first couple of weeks passed in a blur. Harry spent the days catching up with his family, helping with the last of the harvest and meeting up with old friends. Every night the villagers all gathered together around the fire to sing songs and tell stories. Harry was in great demand to tell the tales of his adventures at Hogwarts. The villagers were used to hearing the same legends over and over again, and hearing new stories was a great event. They gasped with shock at the news of the return of the Evil One, and sobbed unrestrainedly when Harry told how Voldemort had spoken through Quirrell's mouth and tried to kill him. When Harry described how Snape had cut Quirrell to pieces and let him drown in his own blood, their cheers and whoops echoed through the village. The Namiya villagers were quite bloodthirsty.

After a couple of weeks though, Harry was missing his close friends dearly. And so after consulting with Bibi and Kingsley, three birds were soon winging their way to Britain with invitations addressed to Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Replies came swiftly. Miss Granger, and Mister's Weasley and Longbottom would be delighted to join Mr Potter for a few weeks in Uganda.

\\\/

 _Meanwhile in Britain..._

Neville was nervous as he, Hermione and Ron waited for the portkey that would take them to Uganda. He had never left Britain before, and it was with extreme reluctance that his grandmother had let him go at all. Only the fact that the invitation came from the great Harry Potter had persuaded Madam Longbottom to let her only grandson leave the safety of the manor walls.

Neville had travelled by floo to a curious house called the Burrow, where he was greeted by an enthusiastic Ron, and his envious twin brothers. Hermione had joined them shortly after, tumbling out of the floo and looking most unusually ruffled, as she cast a nervous eye back at the grate. After a large breakfast that Mrs Weasley had simply _insisted_ they eat, Neville was slightly relieved when they finally went out to the garden to catch the portkey that had apparently been sent by tropical bird earlier that morning.

They clustered around the empty bottle. It said _lubisi_ on it, along with some indecipherable words, and Neville wondered what that meant. A moment later he wasn't able to wonder anymore, as a hook seemed to yank him behind his navel and he was jerked away. They whirled for what seemed like hours, although was probably only seconds. Finally the portkey spat them onto the ground. Neville hit his head on the rough earth, and sat up groaning.

"Where are we?" He wondered out loud.

"Mbalwa," a voice said, sounding very amused. "Next to the portal to magical Uganda."

Neville peered up to see the tall dark form of Kingsley Shacklebolt bending over them. He offered Neville his hand, and hoisted him to his feet.

"Welcome to Uganda," Kingsley smiled. "Unfortunately portkeys directly into the magical part of the country are illegal, and so we brought you to the next closest place."

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked, rubbing his head.

"Just on the other side of that portal," Kingsley said, gesturing them towards a shimmering section of air. "Are you ready to go?"

The three of them nodded, and stepped through the shimmering air. And they stepped into a different world. Neville stopped dead, staring in amazement at the valley spread out beneath them as far as the eye could see. Hermione gasped beside him, and Ron said, "bloody hell," sounding deeply impressed.

"Ron! Hermione! Neville!" They all looked up to see Harry running towards them, two little children holding onto his hands. Next thing they were all engulfed in an enormous hug, as Harry hit them like a hurricane. Gone was the physical reticence Harry usually exercised, Neville observed as he hugged the boy back.

As Harry stepped back, Neville got his first proper look at him. He was wearing some kind of light flowing robes that left his arms entirely bare and hung to his knees, and was barefoot. His black dreadlocks were loose for once and hung well past his shoulders. Already he looked more tanned, although very pale indeed next to the two dark skinned little children clustered by him.

"Did you have a good trip?" Harry asked, looking at them all closely. "No problems?"

"It went fine," Hermione answered for all of them. "Harry - is this where you _live?_ "

"Yep," Harry said sounding very pleased at their astonishment. "Like it?"

As the four of them descended a narrow earth track that ran down the centre of the valley, Neville could hardly stop his eyes from popping out of his head. Never in his life had he seen a place like this before. Everything was green and beautiful, and the sky was a clear blue that spread for miles and miles. The two children Harry had introduced as Kingsley's niece and nephew Naeme and Muhindo, both insisted on being carried on Harry and Kingsley's shoulders. They jabbered away to the three visitors in a foreign language, and seemed quite unconcerned that none of the three understood them.

But nothing could have prepared Neville for entering the village. As they came in sight of the first few huts, the dark villagers were walking about attending to their business. Neville stopped dead and so, he was relieved to see, did Ron.

"Harry," Ron said weakly. "Harry..."

"Whats wrong?" Harry said, turning around. Neville was disgruntled to see Harry looked genuinely bewildered. Neville gestured weakly in the direction of the village.

"What?"

Neville finally found his voice. "Harry, those women are half naked!" He squeaked, embarrassed at the way his face flamed red. Ron was no better though, his cheeks could match his hair.

Indeed, most of the women wore some kind of brightly coloured skirt wrapped around their hips that fell to the ground, and nothing at all on their upper half, except elaborate collections of necklaces. Neville fixed his eyes firmly on the ground, away from the terrifying abundance of female flesh.

"Oh for goodness sake," Hermione hissed. "Didn't either of you read _anything_ on magical African culture before you came?"

"Not what they wore," Ron said hoarsely. Harry was laughing fit to bust, and even Kingsley chuckled.

"Give it a week in the village and you won't even notice," he advised.

Neville was sure he was right, but even so he didn't raise his eyes from the ground until they were safely past the main gathering of people and into the quieter half of the village. Hermione was jabbering away asking Kingsley and Harry endless questions about how the huts were constructed, and what charms were used to make the grass roofs glow with such bright colours. Eventually Neville forgot his shyness and began to pay closer attention to his surroundings.

At the hut that belonged to Kingsley's family they were introduced to an energetic older woman called Bibi, who reminded Neville strongly of Ron's mother. Neville and Ron were relieved to see she wore a modest variation of the loose robes Kingsley and Harry were attired in. The African twins immediately ran to Remus Lupin, who was sitting on some red cushions with Sirius Black. At least that was who Neville assumed it was - it could hardly be anyone else.

"Hello!" Sirius said, rising fluidly to his feet and striding over to them. "Good to meet you at last. Harry said you three helped a lot with the plan to get me out, and I've been looking forward to thanking you personally."

"That was mostly Hermione," Neville admitted. Hermione blushed modestly.

Later that evening they enjoyed a truly spectacular feast that took place outdoors on a series of rough wooden tables, and consisted of foods Neville had never imagined could exist. Rich meat stews were arranged along the tables in bowls that seemed to be made from the same reddish earth as the huts. They were served with rice, what Harry said was called _ugali_ that seemed to be some kind of maize dish, and _matoke_ , a mash that seemed to be mostly bananas and had an exotic flavour. Fish that had been pulled fresh from the river that morning were served with a peanut sauce, and piles of fruit were everywhere along the tables. Neville ate until he thought he would burst, and then went back for seconds.

Later when the main dishes were cleared away, hot sweetened tea was served with _mandazi_ , delicious fresh doughnuts that could be dipped in a sweet sticky sauce. Neville leaned back in his chair nibbling on a doughnut, staring at the night sky that spread out above him like he had never seen before. Billions of stars littered the sky, spread out like a glittering blanket above them. Neville had never imagined the night sky could be so beautiful without light pollution.

Beside him, Harry and Hermione were deep in conversation about their plans for the few weeks that the three of them would be staying, before they returned to Britain to stay at the Burrow for the final week of the holidays.

"-and we've got to visit the capital, you won't believe what an entirely magical city looks like," Harry was murmuring to Hermione.

"Alright mate?" Ron asked Neville, yawning widely on his other side.

"Yes," Neville said. "This is just...so..."

"Amazing, isn't it," Ron said. "I had no idea Harry came from somewhere like _this_ when he said Uganda. If I lived here I'd never want to leave."

Neville last thought before he fell asleep that night in the room he was sharing with Ron, was that maybe if his parents hadn't been injured, they would have taken him to see places like this growing up. The concept of an entire country comprised of magical people was too astonishing for Neville to imagine, and he couldn't wait to see more of it.

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 _ **Lubisi**_ **\- banana beer, common in Uganda**

 _ **Boda bodas**_ **\- taxi motorbikes**

 _ **Uchawi Pamba**_ **\- magical cotton**

 _ **Mwanangu**_ **\- my son**

 _ **mjukuu**_ **\- grandson**

 _ **Bibi**_ **\- grandmother**

 _ **Uingereza**_ **\- England**

 **Thank you all for reading. Next update on Sunday.**

 **-Cas**


	20. Chapter 20

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Two**

 **So a few weeks ago I thought I came up with a completely original way to deal with Horcruxes that nobody else had done, and I was very excited. Because original is** _ **hard**_ **in this fandom. And then last night I was reading a fanfic that used the same idea. And I was** _ **devastated.**_ **I'll modify it. Whatevs. But** _ **still.**_

 **Also I'm thinking of adding chapter names to all the past chapters. If anyone feels inspired to come up with anything for a previous chapter, do let me know.**

\\\/

Neville Longbottom hadn't had a bad life. Not at all. But until now he had to admit it had been, (with a few notable exceptions usually involving Harry and some plot to resurrect a dark lord or break a convicted murderer out of jail or _something_ ,) not particularly interesting. Years of tutors, etiquette lessons and family gatherings had left their mark on Neville. The feeling of constantly trying to live up to everyone else's exacting standards was an oppressing one. Which was why he understood, perhaps better than any of them, the kind of pressure Harry faced on a daily basis.

Neville was amazed at the difference being back in Uganda had wrought upon Harry. Gone were the eccentricities and overconfidence that Neville had come to think of as Harry's nature. Here he seemed calmer, more relaxed and at home. Hermione had commented on it too, in a quiet moment when the three of them were paddling their feet in the river while they waited for Harry to join them.

"Maybe it's to be expected," Hermione said thoughtfully, dipping her toes in the cool stream. The three of them had adopted the barefoot lifestyle favoured by the children here, and it grew upon Neville surprisingly quickly. He was beginning to enjoy the constant sensations beneath his feet, and actually noticed his balance improve drastically.

"Expected?"

"Well Harry's always on his guard at Hogwarts."

"A good thing though isn't it?" Ron interjected. "I mean, he'd be a goner otherwise."

"Not saying it isn't a good thing," Hermione said thoughtfully. "But I wonder if it gets exhausting."

Neville closed his eyes against the bright sunshine, trailing a finger through the water. "Did you hear Remus is the new Defense professor?"

" _Is_ he?" Hermione said excitedly. "I wonder if he can tell us about what he's going to be teaching so we can prepare..."

"Off topic Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes. "What about it Neville?"

"Well you know Harry said he wanted us to do some extra defense training next year?"

"Yeah I think he said something like that."

"It must be with Remus. And maybe that'll help Harry - knowing he can trust us to have his back."

"We have his back now!" Ron said indignantly.

"Yes but Neville's right. We're not much _help_ , are we?" Hermione said impatiently. "I got knocked out before we even reached Quirrell. If we're properly trained, we can make sure he has backup."

"You're not expecting something like that to happen again are you?" Ron said, sounding alarmed.

"Maybe," Neville said, opening his eyes. "The rat escaped. The you-know-who thing escaped. If Harry's taught us one thing, it should be to expect the unexpected."

"What are you talking about?" They turned to see Harry striding towards them, one of the little twins holding his hand and hopping to keep up.

"Nothing," they chorused.

\\\/

They had arranged to stay for a month, which had seemed like a very long time when Harry asked, but soon seemed to be no time at all. The days and nights passed in a blur. At first Neville had found it strange sleeping on mats on the bare ground, but after the first week he wondered how he would ever get used to the softness of a bed again. The food also was unusual and delicious, quite different to anything they had ever tasted before. And to Neville's surprise, they also learned to work - work hard. After the first couple of days where Harry gave them a tour of the village and took them to see the big market town a few miles away, they were expected to pitch in with village life.

For the boys this meant rising before the sun rose and trekking high into the valley. The walk was exhausting for Neville, who felt extremely overweight next to the sinewy muscled Ugandan boys his own age, and even Harry - although Harry claimed a year at Hogwarts had made him grow soft. But Neville and Ron kept up determinedly with the rest, Sirius and Remus often falling back to join them.

The main export from the region was _Uchawi Pamba_ , magical cotton. Kingsley explained that over the rainy season the women would visit the cotton fields and sing to the plants, using their voices to weave an ancient magic into the very roots. The powerful combined vocalisation made the cotton produced by the plants spell resistant, unbreakable and as light as air. Harry told Neville that anyone wearing a cloak made of the special cotton could probably stop just about anything except the killing curse.

"Why doesn't everyone wear them?" Ron has asked, sounding extremely impressed.

"Ugandan possessiveness again," Harry grinned unrepentantly. "We trade our least valuable products with the rest of the world. The best stuff we keep for ourselves."

The plants were prickly and difficult to wrench away from their stalks, and the boys had been warned that using their wands would interfere with the magic and ruin the harvest. By the end of the first day, Neville's hands were bright red and raw with blisters. Harry apologised profusely, seeming very embarrassed and had assured them that they weren't required to work. But every boy over the age of ten took part in the harvest, and the British boys felt it would be churlish to not join in.

"We came here to experience the culture after all, didn't we?" Neville said to Ron one night as they lay awake listening to the cries of the night birds.

As the days went by, Neville watched as his hands grew tougher and developed callouses. He was keeping up with the men more easily, and every day he and Ron returned with their cotton bags fuller than they had been the day before. After the first day of sweating in their Wizarding robes, Harry provided them with the loose sleeveless linen robes that the other men wore, and Neville and Ron took them gratefully. Hermione tartly commented that Harry better not expect her to dress like the other women did.

But it wasn't just hard work. It was a sense of companionship Neville had never experienced before. A sense of being useful, and a valued member of a community. The men spread themselves out across the cotton field and worked their way across in a long line, plucking the cotton from the coarse plants and storing it in the large sacks they carried on their backs. As they marched, they chanted traditional harvest songs, inventing lyrics as they went. One person would begin:

"I-yah wo-wo, Namir picking fast go yah!  
I-yah wo-wo, Namir picking fast go neh!"

Then Namir, a tall cheerful boy of about fifteen, would join in, harmonizing with a contrasting phrase.

"Neh neh neh neh, Kutaaka makes it easy yah!  
Neh neh neh neh, Kutaaka makes it easy nah!"

Then everybody would join in and chant the lines back before someone picked up the next phrase. It made the hands feel lighter and move faster, even as the hot sun beat down upon them. The songs travelled down the line and back up again. Then one day, the enormous barrel-chested man working on Neville's left side turned to him with a wide smile flashing in his dark face.

"Ay yah, wa wa, Neville here is welcome yah!

Ay yah, wa wa, Neville here is welcome yah!"

Neville was surprised to feel his heart tighten as a hundred deep voices boomed the words back to him. Harry smiled broadly at him, and Neville nodded back, trying not to show how affected he was. Neville was used to being lonely. In the large manor he usually resided in he was always alone except for his austere grandmother, and even at Hogwarts he felt useless. Least clever, least important, and always the most lonely. Harry and Ron didn't understand. How could they, coming from such large families. But here under the blazing African sun, his muscles burning and his face on fire, Neville felt for the first time as though he belonged.

That night as they travelled back to the village, tired and aching, Neville felt as though he was walking on air. When the purple lights of the cook fires came into view, he broke out cheering unreservedly with the rest of the men, causing Ron to smirk at him.

"Hungry are you?"

"Starving."

The villagers congregated around the large fires for their communal evening meal. Except for on special occasions, it was traditional for the whole village to eat together. The women worked all afternoon to prepare the delicious meals laid out before them. Harry had confessed that in the beginning he had been concerned that Hermione would be offended that she was expected to cook with the women, but Hermione seemed to be looking at it in a different way.

"I'm learning so much here," she had gushed at the end of their first week. "While we're cooking, the other girls all share legends and stories, and so much of it explains where magic really comes from! And they're teaching me what the runes all mean, so I'm going to have such a headstart on Ancient Runes in third year."

As long as Hermione was happy, Harry seemed content to leave her to her own devices with the women. Neville had been at first uncomfortable with dividing the work along gender lines, but Harry explained it was simply tradition here. The women were perfectly capable of helping with the harvest, just as the men were perfectly capable of cooking their own meals. It was mostly preference that kept them where they were.

Halfway through their last week, Harry announced one evening that he intended to take them to visit the capital city of Magical Uganda the following day.

"We've been so busy the last few weeks," Harry said, as they relaxed around the fire drinking hot tea and nibbling fresh fruit. "Soroti is beautiful in the summer, I can't let you leave without seeing it."

Neville looked up at the expanse of stars above them, and thought again how the holiday had been not at all what he expected, but somehow stranger and more wonderful that he could have imagined.

The next morning, they awoke before the sun rose as usual. Neville tried to dress in his Wizarding robes for the first time in almost a month and was stunned when they hung off his frame. He hadn't even noticed that he had lost weight, but looking down at himself he realised the slight stomach he had sported his whole life was gone. There were no mirrors, so he couldn't see the full extent of the changes.

"Stop admiring yourself," Ron said sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he pulled himself into a sitting position on his mat. "And for Merlin's sake put some clothes on."

For lack of anything else, Neville dressed in the linen robes they had been wearing all summer. He felt inordinately pleased as he did so, buckling the dragonhide belt tightly around his new waist. The four of them met downstairs in the central room. Harry and Hermione were already there, sitting quietly on cushions eating maize porridge that Bibi was stirring over the fire.

"Are we ready to go after we've eaten?" Harry asked. They nodded, picking up their breakfast bowls and moving to the floor.

Before they could so much as take a bite, there was a loud clattering, and a commotion at the door. They looked up in sudden surprise to find a large figure standing in the doorway. The figure moved into the light, becoming the tall, imposing figure of Mad-Eye Moody. He glared at them. Neville felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"You're not going anywhere," the auror growled. "Not until you've seen this."

"Mad-Eye!" Neville noticed uncomfortably that Harry looked very shocked. It made him nervous when _Harry_ was shocked.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Britain."

The aging auror stumped into the room, his magical eye scanning their faces. He looked older than he had the last time they had seen him. Older and more grizzled. "Bad news Potter," he said darkly. "Or good news, depending on which way you look at it."

"What are you being so cryptic about?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Have you seen the paper?"

"Of course not. No-one in Uganda reads the British news."

Eyeing Harry suspiciously, Mad-Eye reached into his cloak and pulled out a rolled up newspaper. He tossed it to Harry, who caught it with a frown, and unrolled it. Neville watched warily as Harry's face drained of colour. As he read down the page he grew slowly greyer

"Oh shit.." Harry whispered.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked impatiently.

Harry looked around at them all slowly, then back at the paper. "Fudge is dead," he said, sounding as if he could hardly believe it. "The Minister of Magic is dead."

Hermione gasped in shock, and Neville stared. "How?" He whispered. Harry passed Neville the paper, seeming unable to speak. Neville looked down, afraid of what he might see. There was a large full colour picture of Fudge, looking harried at some kind of press conference.

 **MINISTER OF MAGIC KILLED IN DEMENTOR ATTACK.**

 **It is with deepest sorrow that The Daily Prophet reports today that the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge has been killed in the line of duty. Emerging details suggest that Minister Fudge was attending Azkaban to oversee new security arrangements following the breakout of Sirius Black in March this year. Accompanied by the head of Magical International Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch, Minister Fudge arrived at the prison in the usual manner. However after the two men were accompanied into the prison by the new head of staff Edward Avery, the details become unclear. We can however confirm that Minister Fudge suffered a fatal attack from a dementor.**

 **Suspicion has fallen on Prison Officer Avery. Appointed only recently following the death of the previous head of staff in the aforementioned breakout, Edward Avery was arrested on suspicion of deatheater activity in 1981 but later released. Azkaban guards are required to perform the Patronus Charm to the highest possible standard, and it is inconceivable that Avery would have failed in this task had it not been deliberate.**

 **A source suggested that only the heroic actions of Bartemius Crouch made it possible to recover the body, and indeed had Mr Crouch not intervened, the dementors might very well have moved onto the prisoners, having proved their willingness to attack the very highest level of Government. Mr Crouch was seen entering the Ministry early this morning, and told our reporter:**

 **"The death of Minister Fudge was a tragic and entirely avoidable incident. The Wizarding world must look now to a strong leader to guide them through this crisis."**

 **Mr Crouch was a strong contender for the ministerial position three years ago. It is possible that our reporter was speaking today with the future of Wizarding Britain. Collect your Daily Prophet tomorrow for further news on this tragic incident.**

Neville silently passed the newspaper to Hermione, who had her hand outstretched impatiently. Harry and Mad-Eye were conversing in low, worried voices.

"What does it mean?" Neville asked.

"It means," Harry said grimly, "that someone out there though they could do a better job of running the country than Fudge."

"Not...Crouch?"

"No," Mad-Eye said, sitting down heavily on one of the red cushions and sighing deeply. "I've known Crouch for years and years. He sent his own son to Azkaban for being a death eater. No, Barty's as straight as they come."

"His own son?" Hermione asked with a kind of horrified fascination.

Neville froze. Nobody spoke for a moment, and Hermione looked confused. Neville felt like he was going to be sick, and then realised both Harry and Mad-Eye were glancing at him, clearly waiting for him to indicate they could speak.

"It was Crouch's son that helped the Lestranges torture my parent's," Neville said softly. "I don't care how straight Mr Crouch is. Because of his son, I might as well not have any parents."

Hermione gasped, horrified. Ron looked stunned, and Harry gave Neville a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Nobody spoke for a long moment. Then Mad-Eye stood up with a groan, crumpling up the newspaper roughly and shoving it back in his jacket. "I've already got Kingsley coming back today," the auror grunted. "Got to do some damage control. The ministry is in chaos of course. You should come back Potter. Your support could count for a lot when they're selecting the next minister."

"Can it wait for a day?" Harry asked. "Ron, Neville and Hermione _are_ guests, and I _did_ promise to show them around Soroti today."

Mad-Eye hesitated, looking reluctant. "Please," Harry added.

"Fine. I'll have Kingsley pick you up at sunset."

\\\/

Neville had never felt less like sightseeing. Although he hadn't been particularly fond of Fudge, there was still something odd about knowing the head of your country was dead. And the thought of those dementors... Neville shivered. He would never know how Harry found the courage to rescue Sirius. The thought of the prison alone was enough to give him nightmares.

The trip to Soroti took almost an hour. They portkeyed to the nearest town, and from there they took the cable cars down through the valley all the way to the bottom of the mountain. At least they looked like cable cars, but Hermione claimed that the muggle inventions that had inspired them actually required something to support the little pods. Hence the _cable_ part of the name. Really, the magical version was more like floating down the valley in a large metal bubble with windows.

Since none of them understood the language Harry was speaking in, and Harry wasn't in a talkative mood, they had no idea what it was called.

"Can we call it the bubble bus?" Ron suggested.

"Err. Cloud car?" Neville returned. Ron shot Harry a hopeful look, but Harry seemed to have descended into a dark mood and didn't reply.

"Floating Ferrari," Hermione said, her lips pursed. She seemed to be torn between disapproval and a desire to cheer up Harry.

"What's a Ferrari?" Neville asked. Hermione opened her mouth eagerly, but Ron beat her to it.

"Don't ask mate," he advised. "Erm. Vapour Vehicle?"

"Cloud Chariot"

"You've already said cloud."

"But not chariot."

"That's cheating."

"There aren't any rules though."

"Be quiet the pair of you," Hermione said sternly. "Magical Mercedes."

"What's _that?"_

"You can't just keep using muggle vehicles," Ron complained.

Neville leaned back and eyed the lush vegetation spread out beneath them. "Sky Swing? By the way Harry, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'd always assumed that Africa was really dry and bare. This is nothing but green."

Harry seemed to return to himself. "It rains for half of the year," he said, sitting up straighter and following Neville's gaze out of the window. Ron and Neville exchanged relieved looks. They had been worried he would remain in his funk the whole journey.

"Oh. And they're called Cloud Pods," Harry added casually.

"What?! That's not even _alliterative_!" Hermione sounded scandalised. "Well if we're not doing alliteration, I prefer Sky Chariot."

"Wind Master."

"No, that's you Ron," Harry said straight-faced. Ron groaned as they descended into raucous laughter.

\\\/

Soroti was enormous, and spread as far as the eye could see. It was made of a series of mirrored skyscrapers that rose in twisting pires, looking as if they shouldn't stay upright without toppling over. In between the skyscrapers, smaller buildings clustered in little clumps. Rich smells came from food stalls along the red roads, and clouds of brightly coloured smoke rose into the air from large cigars many of the people seemed to be smoking.

Hermione commented that it reminded her of Alice in Wonderland. The three boys exchanged glances and decided not to ask who Alice was, or where they might find Wonderland. As they walked further into the city, Neville noticed that the people weren't all dark skinned. In fact there were people of every colour, size, shape and design. There were people who seemed barely human; beautiful coal-skinned women with flowing ebony locks that Harry whispered were African cousins to the Veela; a large group of American witches in white robes talking in loud voices; a man whose entire head and body seemed to be covered in short, smooth blue fur; several children of various skin colours playing in the earth with some coloured hoops; even an African couple walking alongside what seemed to be a pair of wolf cubs.

"This is insane," Neville said blankly. His mind couldn't even compute the existence of such a place. As they walked further into the city, Hermione began to ask Harry some!of the multitude of questions that the city brought up.

"How is this possible?" She began, looking around at the city. Harry got a slightly panicked look in his eye when he realised he was about to be pinned down by a Hermione Granger on a quest for knowledge.

"How is what possible?"

" _Stalling,"_ Ron coughed

"Well Harry," Hermione said in what seemed to be her _I'm going to be patient about this because I know you'll give me the information I want eventually_ tone of voice. "It can't have escaped your notice that Uganda has a whole magical country and Britain doesn't. Why? As far as I can tell, Britain only has Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Not a great big city like this!"

Harry looked to the right and left, and seemed to realise he wasn't going to escape this conversation. "Well," he sighed. "It's just to do with the ways magical cultures developed over the millennia."

"When did magic start then?" Neville asked curiously.

"We're not really sure," Harry admitted. "But it almost certainly wasn't in Europe. British magical society only goes back a thousand years or so. Magic in Africa has been around for many more millennia. Legend says that when the first magicals were born they faced terrible prejudice and attack. At some point, the number of magical children born grew so high that the ancients decided that it would be easier to create an entire parallel country for magic users, and leave the muggle world alone. Everyone was happy."

"But there's so many people!" Hermione said, gesturing to the busy street. There are only forty students in our whole year at Hogwarts, and that's the only magical school in Britain."

"Most of the magical children in Britain can't afford Hogwarts, Hermione," Harry said gently. "They're home-educated."

Hermione looked appalled. "That's... That's...depriving someone of an education because they can't afford it! That's practically mediaeval!"

"British Magical Society is stuck a few centuries in the past," Harry admitted.

"So how many magical children are born in Britain each year?" Hermione asked, a calculating expression appearing on her face.

"I don't know the exact figure. But I believe it's a few thousand."

"A few _thousand_ children aren't receiving an education every year?! That's - that's -"

"The problem with having one small, expensive school for an entire country?"

"Uganda seems so much better," Ron said, looking around.

Harry shrugged. "Every country has its flaws. Ugandan children might all receive a magical education. But then we still have the death penalty for minor crimes, a flourishing underground slave trade, and several minorities like the LGBT community can be thrown in jail just for existing. No country is perfect."

Nobody seemed to quite know what to say to that. They walked on in silence for a while, absorbing the shops around them selling the most interesting products Neville had ever seen. There seemed to be lots of clothes shops selling robes made from the magical cotton they had spent the last month harvesting and Neville felt a little twinge of proprietal pride every time he saw a garment.

"Harry," Hermione said eventually, in an innocent voice that fooled nobody. "Is there a bookshop anywhere that I'm could get more information on magical history from?"

"Well there is," Harry admitted. "But you might want to look at the Museum first."

"There's a museum?" Hermione gasped.

"What's a museum?" Neville frowned curiously.

"A place to store history," Hermione gushed. "Oh my goodness a whole museum on magic. I never imagined..."

Neville looked at Ron, who looked back at him and shrugged. "Best not to ask. Let's just wait and see."

\\\/

It turned out that a magical museum was indeed a place to store history. Harry led them to the very centre of the city before they saw it.

The enormous bizarre construction rose into the sky...up and up, until it disappeared. There didn't seem to be a top, and it didn't look as though it ought to stay upright. It was made entirely of glass, but curiously every time you tried to get close enough to peer through the walls, the mysterious shapes that seemed just tantalisingly out of reach on the other side vanished completely, and you were left staring at your own reflection.

There was a splendid silver archway at the foot of the building, and a plaque with strange squiggly writing that Neville couldn't understand. He supposed it was in Swahili, and heard Hermione ask Harry in hushed tones what it meant.

 _"The Ugandan Museum of Magical History was established in 1237AD as part of an international project to increase magical ties across the world, between King Ulhwa the third and Merlin. Magical blood flows red."_

"What does that mean?" Neville asked. "Magical blood flows red?"

"It means that we're all the same inside," Harry shrugged. "Black, white, whatever. We're all magical, and that's what binds us together."

"It's a good message," Hermione said approvingly.

They entered the building and immediately the noise behind them died away. The door slid closed silently, and they looked around them. It was the most strange and brilliant place Neville had seen in his life. They were standing in a triangle shaped foyer, but there was no ceiling. Above their heads they could see tier after tier of balconies steadily rising higher until, at the very top, finally a pinprick of blue sky that proved that the building did indeed have a limit. The underside of the balconies were all painted different shades of blue, the blue growing lighter the higher they went, until finally the colour merged with the sky.

The walls were rich gold with thick tapestries and finely wrought gold torch holders. Ahead of them was a gold desk, and behind it was a curious looking man.

"Harry, what is that?" Ron asked nervously.

Neville's though Ron should have been asking 'who,' rather than 'what'. But as they drew closer he was no longer sure. What he had taken to be a white man, began to look more and more like a disturbingly pale black man. It wasn't that his skin was less dark, more that it was strangely chalky. His face in particular had such a pallor that he looked as if he were on the verge of collapse. Then he looked at them and blinked slowly. His eyes were red.

"Vampire," Hermione whispered. "Professor Quirrell told us in class that they like hot climates."

Harry seemed the only one unaffected by the eerie presence of the vampire. He walked calmly up to the front desk and signed their names on a peacock blue register.

"Hands please," the vampire said in a rasping voice that made Neville jump. Harry extended his hand, and the vampire pricked his finger. A drop of blood fell onto the name on the register, where it glowed gold before disappearing. Neville nervously did the same. The prick didn't hurt at all, but it was a little scary watching a vampire carefully extract your blood.

"Do you need a map?" The vampire said, eyeing them with little interest.

"No, I know my way around," Harry said. "Thank you."

As they walked away, Harry spoke in an undertone. "Sorry I forgot to warn you. It's considered fashionable in Uganda to employ vampires. They're cheap labour, and don't mind night shifts."

"Have they ever bitten anyone?" Hermione asked uncertainly.

"Not on duty." Harry gave a mischievous smile.

They spent the morning exploring the many floors of the Museum. It turned out that there were 234 different floors, each exploring a different aspect of history. They saw displays on the bloody civil wars of the last century; the rise of the current monarchy; the first introduction of wands into magical society; the treaty between the werewolves and the wizards; and the gradual acceptance of vampires in magical society. A large section was devoted to the exploits of a vampire named Bellman the Betrayer, who had led a bloody campaign to change the laws and allow vampires to carry wands, before his eventual capture and brutal public execution.

Hermione was almost hysterical with excitement.

"Why doesn't Britain have anything like this?" She asked Harry in the elevator up to the first floor. "The best we have is books on magic, and there's not even a central library!"

"I'm not letting you near the Ugandan Magical Library," Harry rolled his eyes.

"There _is_ a library?" Hermione gasped.

"Yes and if you go in there I doubt we'll get you out by the end of the whole visit. Next time."

When they exited the building, blinking in the sunlight, they were amazed to see it was only early afternoon. Harry had eventually insisted that they leave the Museum, claiming that Hermione was a welcome guest to return any time she wanted, but if they stayed any longer they would miss the best part of the day. He persuaded them that there was much of the city left to see, and they couldn't possibly miss the Ugandan Magic Market.

The market took place in the city centre. It was a large and lively market, with traders calling out their wares and young children standing by each stall offering free samples. Before they could object, Harry handed each of them a full money bag.

"Harry, you can't-" Ron began to object.

"Do you have any Ugandan money?" Harry asked.

"Well no, but -"

"Then it won't be much fun will it? Pay me back when you're working."

" _Working?_ That's in about seven years."

"I can charge interest if it makes you feel better?" Harry offered. Then he gestured to the market in front of them. "I suggest we split up, and meet here in an hour. Everyone speaks English if you address them in it first, and remember to haggle for everything. They'll be offended if you don't. Now I've got to take care of some business, but I'll see you back here soon."

With that, Harry turned and disappeared into the fray. The three of them looked at each other uncertainly, before wandering into the market. Neville had never been shopping alone before. His grandmother usually supervised his purchases, and he delighted in buying without her watchful eye.

Before long the money bag was depleted, and Neville had bought several items, after nervously haggling with the traders. He purchased high quality flexible dragonskin gloves for potions work; several packets of magical plant seeds he had never seen before; a rather ornate bronze jewellery set for his grandmother engraved with family runes, and as a personal indulgence, a black leather wand holster that strapped to the wrist. After a moment's indecision he bought three more for his friends Christmas presents.

Just as he felt he had seen everything, he heard a commotion. Feeling almost certain he could hear Hermione's voice, Neville headed warily towards the raised voices.

\\\/

Harry walked quickly away from his friends. He felt guilty leaving them to fend for themselves in a foreign country, but what he had said was true. Everyone did speak at least enough English to get by.

Harry headed quickly to the stall he was looking for, and placed a very special order.

"You want delivery to _England?_ " The stallholder said in disbelief. "I do not believe this. This cannot be done."

"If I add an extra ten UGX do you think you might find yourself suspending your disbelief?" Harry asked smoothly.

The trader sighed. "I am becoming warmer. But still no."

"Fifteen."

"Thirty"

"Eighteen"

"Twenty five"

"Twenty and I'll order an extra five sets in advance for Christmas too."

The trader squinted at Harry's suspiciously. "Nine in total? Four now and five at Christmas? Full price plus twenty UGX for delivery?"

"Yes."

"What do you want nine for?"

"That's hardly your business," Harry said mildly.

"Damn you," the trader swore. "Twenty, and may the dark one rot your pockets "

Highly amused and satisfied with the deal, Harry left the stall in high spirits. Rounding the corner he bumped into Ron, Neville and Hermione, all carrying an array of packages. Neville and Ron each had hold of one of Hermione's arms, Harry noticed without really taking it in.

"Oh hello," Harry said, relieved they hadn't come upon him earlier. "Still shopping?"

"There's something happening over there Harry," Hermione said, her voice raised slightly. "Some people have a vampire tied up and they're hurting him."

"Where?"

Hermione pointed to the car corner of the market, and Harry winced. "That's the punishment corner," he admitted. "People, vampires, anyone who has done anything wrong gets flogged there."

"Harry we've got to help him!"

"We can't help him Hermione," Harry said impatiently. But Hermione had already dashed off through the crowds back towards the punishment corner. "Shit," Harry said to Ron and Neville. "What are the chances she'll just watch quietly then leave?"

"Somewhere between zero and no way," Neville said grimly.

"She's not one to sit quietly when she thinks something isn't right," Ron agreed ruefully. "She was trying to intervene when Neville and I found her." They quickened their pace.

When they got to the punishment corner, Harry's worst fears came true. A kneeling vampire was tied to a large stake driven into the ground. His back was already bloody with stripes from the whip. Hermione was standing between the vampire, and a large black man holding a whip.

"You can't just beat people!" Hermione was shouting furiously. "What did he _do?_ "

"He stole a wand," said the Punisher, who seemed to be more amused than annoyed. "Now move little white girl, and let us finish."

"No," Hermione insisted, stamping her foot. A crowd was gathering, some of them muttering angrily as they pointed at Hermione.

"Oh Merlin," Ron said, sounding panicked. "What do we do?"

"Hermione, come on. Let's go," Harry said coaxingly. They were in real danger if the crowd decided Hermione was breaking their punishment laws.

"Harry how can you let this happen?" Hermione said angrily. "This is your country. Do you think this is okay?"

"It's none of our business Hermione," Harry said, endeavouring to make her understand. "Once a crime has been committed, it's between the criminal and the Punisher."

"That's barbaric!"

"Little white girl, get out of the way," the Punisher said, advancing on Hermione with his whip raised. "Or do you want to take his place?"

Hermione went white. Harry froze, praying she wouldn't answer stupidly. "Harry," Neville moaned. "Do something."

Harry stepped into the square, and silence fell as all eyes moved to him. Even the vampire, who had been slumped against the stake giving every impression of unconsciousness before now, opened his eyes a crack.

"Hermione," Harry said reasonably. "Will you walk away from this now?" Hermione was trembling as he came closer. She looked terrified, as though she realised she had gotten herself far out of her depth.

"No," Hermione whispered. She looked the way she had looked standing before the white queen on the giant chessboard. Afraid, but still proudly defiant.

"Fine," Harry sighed, turning to the Punisher. "How much to let the vampire go?"

The Punisher named an extortionate price. Harry tossed a bulging money bag at his feet, that clearly contained far more than the required amount. "That's for letting us all leave with no trouble, not following us, and forgetting about the whole incident," he said casually.

The Punisher picked up the money bag and carefully weighed it in his hand. Eventually he seemed to come to a decision. Grunting his agreement, he tossed his whip on the ground, signalling the beating was over. Immediately Hermione ran to the vampire. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hermione I've just saved you from serious trouble. Let's _leave. Quickly."_

But Hermione was preoccupied with the vampire. "Are you alright?" She was asking worriedly.

"Fine," the vampire croaked in a hoarse voice. "It would not be the first time one of my people suffered at the hands of the wand carriers."

He made to stand up, but hissed as the wounds on his back began to bleed. When Hermione moved to assist, he pushed her back. "No little one," he whispered. "I thank you for your kindness, but you must be wary. I would advise you do not return to this place soon."

Harry stepped forward. "Come on Hermione," he said impatiently, with no small measure of anger. The vampire turned to stare at him.

"I must thank you too, kind sir," the vampire said. "You came only to save your friend, but also saved me. What is your name, young one?"

"Harry Potter," Hermione said before Harry could stop her. "And I'm Hermione Granger."

"I will remember," the vampire murmured. "I have a feeling that we will meet again Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Sanguini owes you his life...and Sanguini does not forget."

With those parting words, the vampire pulled himself to his feet and disappeared into the crowd. Harry grasped Hermione firmly by the arm and pulled her from the square, furious.

"How could you be so stupid?" Harry hissed, building himself up towards a rant. But Hermione disarmed him with a single sentence.

"Have you lived so long in this country you no longer care when another person is beaten alive in front of you for daring to possess a wand?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then deflated. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "But what you did was incredibly dangerous."

"I know," Hermione said in a small voice. "I'm sorry too."

"Erm guys?" Neville said awkwardly. "This crowd is looking unfriendly. I think we should leave."

They looked around to find the crowd was indeed shooting them filthy looks, and beginning to press closer to them. Only Harry realised how much danger they were in. "No time," he said quickly. "Grab my arm. I'm wearing a portkey. We need to get out _right now_."

The three of them grabbed Harry, holding tightly to their parcels with the other hand. Then Harry activated the portkey. He felt an uncomfortable yank behind his navel, and the four of them disappeared in a swirl of lights and colours. Next moment, they landed on the mountainside at the top of the valley next to the portal. The evening sun was setting over the valley, And it looked as beautiful as it has done the moment they arrived.

"What was that?" Ron coughed, stumbling away from the group.

"I'm sorry," Harry winced. "But interfering with the punishment made everyone angry, and we were in real danger there. The crowd could have attacked us at any minute."

Ron, Neville and Hermione looked very frightened, and Harry sighed. He had hoped to shield them from some of the more brutal facets of Ugandan Society, but it was just typical that they would find themselves right in the middle of it.

"They would have attacked us?" Hermione asked in a little voice.

"You need to understand this isn't Britain Hermione," Harry said as they began to walk back down to the village, the sun at their backs. "Different laws. Even though we're children, you standing up for a vampire violated some core beliefs here."

"I thought vampires were members of society," Neville said.

"Inferior ones," Harry tried to explain. "Not allows to carry wands. A bit like goblins really. Allowed to do their thing and work, but not equal to wizards."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly.

"It's fine," Harry said with a sigh. Neville put a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"You were only standing up for what you thought was right. Just try not to get us all killed next time eh?"

"I bet you'll be glad to get home after this," Harry said. The other three nodded fervently.

"Kingsley is meeting us outside the portal at sundown. We'll get our luggage and then go."

They spent the rest of the walk in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **\- Cas**


	21. Chapter 21

**I was slightly stunned by some of the reviews I received for the last chapter. They seemed to range from, "go Hermione," to "why wasn't she beaten to death for disobeying orders." I think it's very characteristic of her to step in like that - see, SPEW. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, it's an interesting issue, that is very relevant in real life and it was great to hear all the different opinions.**

 **Year Two**

 **Chapter Three**

\\\/

Mad-Eye and Kingsley were arguing in the kitchen again. Harry had expected it really. Ever since he had told them about the incident with Hermione and the vampire, they had been itching for a confrontation. Harry leaned against the doorframe, sipping a cup of tea and watching without much interest.

"Stupid, beyond stupid!" Kingsley was saying furiously, pacing up and down. The house elf Marley was whistling merrily by the stove, perched on a teetering stool as he stirred a large pan of soup. He too, knew better than to pay attention to the constant bickering.

"And I say if the lass knows her own mind then good for her!" Mad-Eye roared.

"She could have gotten them killed!"

"Lots of things get you killed. Doesn't mean you should forget right or wrong."

"It's the _law_ ," Kingsley hissed. "Any vampire in possession of a wand is flogged! That's just how our society works!"

"And you think that's right? You think you should be allowed to kill people for desiring to possess a wand? Potter said the vampire was half dead when Granger intervened."

"He knew the punishment when he committed the crime."

Harry wandered over to the kitchen table and perched on a stool. "I'm starting to come around to Hermione's point of view," he admitted.

Kingsley glared. "You could have been killed!"

"No I couldn't. I had my emergency portkey. You know I never leave home without it. But it's a moral issue really. Hermione was a guest in a foreign country and legally her intervention was wrong, and she should have minded her own business," Harry began.

"Exactly!"

"No, wait. Legally she should have. But morally? Imagine being a sheltered girl growing up in muggle Britain where even the worst criminals are only given life in prison, and then seeing someone being beaten for a minor crime. Hermione's not afraid to act, and she stood up for her beliefs. I even find it kind of admirable in retrospect."

"Stupid," Kingsley said again, but with less vitriol. "We invited her to Uganda, and she didn't follow our laws. We would not go to Britain and tell the British people how to live."

"She's got nerve," Mad-Eye said approvingly, banging his fist on the table. "I like her. You need people like that on your side Potter. That's the sort of lass who won't waver when times get tough."

"Besides," Harry continued. "Just because it's the law..does that make it a good law? A humane one? A law that we are proud to enforce? Or is it a part of Uganda's culture that shames us. Because let me tell you, I wasn't proud when my British friends saw the incident. I didn't want to display that part of our country's heritage to them."

"It's tradition," Kingsley said weakly.

"A bad tradition that shames us."

"Either way, the girl shouldn't have intervened."

"That's just Hermione," Harry sighed. "She's young, hotheaded and headstrong. I'm sure she'll learn a bit of caution as she gets older."

"Caution is good," Mad-Eye growled. "But don't let her lose that spark. She's got bravery, that one. Bravery and a good heart. An excellent choice of ally Potter, and this confirms it. Good job."

Kingsley groaned, and buried his head in his hands. "Everything has to be about the fight with you, doesn't it Alastor," he sighed, his voice muffled.

"The fight?"

"The greater good, the overreaching aim, killing Voldemort."

Mad-Eye looked affronted. "Of course. That's how you stay alive."

Marley bounced over to the table, a tray balanced on his hand and a beaming smile. Harry doubted the elf had even noticed the argument.

"TEA FOR THE MASTER'S?"

\\\/

Outside of the Storm Cottage, the rest of Wizarding Britain was also in uproar. A Minister of Magic had been kissed by the dementors they relied upon to guard their top security prisoners, and didn't even have the decency to leave a clear choice of successor behind him.

Harry, Kingsley and Mad-Eye made their way to the ministry a few days after their return from Uganda. It had been announced that the shortlisted candidates for the ministerial position would be announced at the ministry that morning, and none of them wanted to wait for second hand information through the press.

The moment Harry and his guardians stepped outside of the apparation zone, they were spotted. Dozens of reporters swarmed towards them, all of them aiming their cameras at the trio. The noise was incredible.

"Harry! Who will you be supporting for Minister?"

"Auror Moody are you planning on running?"

"Do you feel Britain is ready for its first black Minister of Magic, Auror Shacklebolt?"

"Would you give up Hogwarts to run the country Harry?"

Kingsley raised his hand to stop the stream of question, and the crowd of reporters stopped shouting, their quills poised over their notepads eagerly.

"None of the three of us will be running for the position of Minister," Kingsley said calmly. "As you know, the shortlist will be announced this morning. We will announce who we are publicly supporting shortly afterwards."

They brushed past the reporters, and joined the stream of witches and wizards heading towards the entrance to the Ministry. Far from downcast, there was an air of excitement amongst the populace, and everywhere they looked, witches and wizards were whispering to each other, each seemingly convinced that their preferred candidate would be selected.

They stopped in the main atrium, along with what seemed to be every witch or wizard with even the slightest connection to the ministry in the entire country. Harry spotted Arthur Weasley and a tall red-haired young man who he suspected must be one of his older sons. Then his eyes narrowed. Lucius Malfoy was standing across the hall from the three of them, his shining blond hair unmistakeable. He was talking persuasively to an older witch with greying hair, and as Harry watched, he was almost certain he saw the Malfoy elder slip a bag of money into the woman's cloak.

"Look," he said, nudging Kingsley. "Malfoy's bribing people. Who's that woman?"

"Yorga Chance," Kingsley frowned. "She's been on the Wizengamot for decades. Her vote carries a lot of weight."

"Wonder who Malfoy wants for Minister," Harry frowned.

"Shouldn't be too hard to figure out once we've heard the shortlist," Mad-Eye growled, his magical eye scanning the room constantly.

A stage had been erected at one end of the enormous hall, and an empty gold podium waited in the middle. Suddenly there a hush fell over the crowd. A middle-aged witch in deep blue robes was climbing the stage. She had iron grey corkscrew curls, and a stern, pleasant face. The crowd began whispering eagerly.

" Who's that?" Harry asked He recognised the witch from somewhere.

"Millicent Bagnold," Kingsley told him. "It's traditional for a previous Minister of Magic to announce the shortlist for the next one. And since Fudge is dead..."

Kingsley fell silent, as Millicent Bagnold stepped up to the podium. She cleared her throat, looking out over the crowd. Her eyes were like grey, immovable steel that took in everything at a glance. Harry felt as though he had been x-rayed.

"Witches and Wizards of Great Britain, it is my sad duty to be here today. As you all know, Minister of Magic Fudge was killed in the line of duty three days ago, and magical Britain is in need of a new leader."

"Come back!" A voice from the crowd shouted. Bagnold smiled, and shook her head.

"My tenure as Minister finished a decade ago," she demurred. "However I have the honour of announcing the shortlisted names of those witches and wizards who have been nominated for Minister of Magic in the last few days "

Bagnold picked up a piece of parchment from the podium, and squinted at it.

"Amelia Bones. Amos Diggory. Rufus Scrimgeour. Bartemius Crouch, and Lord Lucius Malfoy."

Bagnold folded up the parchment. The atrium erupted into shouts, as every single person tried to make themselves heard. The cacophony echoed across the large space and made it impossible to speak. Harry and Kingsley exchanged horrified looks, whilst Mad-Eye turned to glare at Malfoy, who was in the centre of a large group of witches and wizards, all of whom seemed intent on shaking his hand. But Bagnold wasn't finished.

"As usual, the ministerial position will be decided by vote," she said. "You will each receive your enchanted voting slip in the post in one week's time. The new Minister of Magic will be announced on the 1st of September."

Mad-Eye and Kingsley grabbed Harry firmly by the arm, and pulled him through the crowd. Only once they were safely in Kingsley's office did they let go of him.

"Bloody slimy death eater scum," Mad-Eye growled furiously, sitting down heavily in a chair.

"This makes things more complicated," Kingsley said mildly. "What do you think Harry?"

"It changes who we support," Harry said slowly.

"Indeed. And why is that?"

"We have to do whatever it takes to keep Malfoy out," Harry said reluctantly.

"Madam Bones would have been ideal," Mad-Eye said, sounding very disappointed. "But I'm not sure she's got enough support to make it a sure thing. Diggory and Scrimgeour don't have much either. Crouch _wouldn't_ have, except for that fool stunt he pulled at the prison, risking his life to try and save Fudge and bringing Avery into custody."

Harry considered the matter. The news had broken that morning - Edward Avery had been found guilty of treason and sentenced to the dementors kiss, in an ironic punishment. After the man had refused to say a single word during his trial, he was sentenced almost immediately. Not even a motive had been discovered.

Crouch was the hero of the hour for bringing him into custody, and the older man had spent the past three days drumming up support, giving interviews right left and centre, and had apparently not left the ministry until past midnight each night. Mad-Eye had commented that after losing the ministerial position ten years ago, Crouch wasn't going to risk letting it slip past him again.

"So we back Crouch then?" Harry said. "He's the best shot to get rid of Malfoy?"

"He is," Kingsley confirmed. "The public love him at the moment, and you can be sure he'll take advantage of that. No wonder Malfoy's trying to bribe people."

"But will Crouch be a good Minister?" Harry asked. "Is it definitely the right idea to support him?"

"He's a man I'd trust on my side against Voldemort," Mad-Eye said consideringly. "We may not see eye to eye, but he's a stronger man than Fudge ever was."

"Alright then," Harry said. Kingsley and Mad-Eye nodded. "Shall we go and make our statements?"

As the Boy Who Lived, Harry's vote would carry a great deal of weight. They could only hope it would be enough to sway the public away from Malfoy. They made their way back through the crowded ministry, and through the atrium where the names of the five contenders had been written on a large piece of parchment and stuck to the wall above the stage.

The reporters had been banned from the ministry, and so they followed the dispersing crowds towards the exit. At first nobody spotted them. But it only took one reporter for the tidal wave to hit. The lights began flashing in their faces again as the cameras went off. Harry saw a man he recognised as Amos Diggory look very disgruntled as the reporter he was speaking with caught sight of Harry, and immediately abandoned the interview to dash over to the younger boy.

"Harry! Harry! What do you think of Lord Malfoy, your very public opponent in your quest to secure a trial for Sirius Black, now running for Minister?"

Harry took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders self-importantly. He was wearing a deep black set of dragonskin robes, having abandoned his Ugandan robes upon returning to Britain, and tried to look taller and more impressive as he looked into the camera.

"I, Harry Potter, pledge my support to Bartemius Crouch," he said formally. "I hearby offer all of my efforts towards his campaign to become Minister of Magic, and encourage the public to do the same. Mr Crouch chose to risk his life to recover the body of the late Minister Fudge, which shows a strong moral character. He also captured the prison officer responsible for the crime, and is clearly a capable and strong leader. I would also implore the public to not vote for Lord Malfoy, and would go so far as to say any other contender would be preferable."

The crowd around them erupted into shouts, and Kingsley and Mad-Eye made affirmative statements, before the three of them headed for the nearby apparation point. Before they left though, Harry spotted Lucius Malfoy through the crowd. The man was glaring at him, the look on his face so malevolent that it made Harry shudder.

\\\/

That evening, after a day of endless floo calls from high ranking ministry officials who wanted to discuss the vote, Harry packed his bags for what felt like the hundredth time that holiday. The Weasleys had invited him to stay for the last week of the holidays, Ron reminding him that Neville and Hermione would also be going, and it would be rude not to allow them to return Harry's hospitality

In the three days they had been back at Storm Cottage, Harry had managed to trash his large bedroom, partially empty his trunk onto the floor, and almost break his enchanted mirror. He sighed as he surveyed the chaos. Robes hung everywhere over the furniture, Vapour's cage was littered with droppings, and the owl herself was nowhere to be seen. Harry threw everything into his trunk, hoping the Weasleys intended to do their Hogwarts shopping while they were there, as he hadn't found the time yet. Suddenly there was a shout from downstairs.

"Harry! Special delivery."

Harry made his way downstairs, confused. But when he reached the hall and saw who his visitor was he cried out in delight.

"Nick! You're alive!"

"Had to be, didn't I?" The ancient man grinned at Harry. Nicholas Flamel looked slightly worse for wear, but at least he was whole and healthy. "Perry would never forgive me if I upped and died on her."

"I can't believe it. I was so worried."

"I had a long chat with Albus, and he told me everything. You certainly acquitted yourself well at the end of the year laddie."

"I'm so glad we saved the stone," Harry said sincerely.

"As are we all. Perry and I have a lot of work to do before we call it a day!"

Harry laughed, relieved beyond words that Nicholas and Perenelle hadn't heeded Dumbledore's advice. "My friend Hermione would have been very disgruntled if you hadn't. She didn't get a chance to ask you half the questions she wanted to at Christmas."

"Tell her to owl me," Nicholas beamed. "A mind like hers is to be encouraged."

"I'll tell her. Sorry in advance if you get a deluge of letters."

"When you get to my age, you welcome all letters," Nicholas smiled. "Now that reminds me. I almost forgot..."

Nicholas began searching his pockets for something, muttering to himself. Harry, who was used to the man's eccentricities, waited patiently. "Aha!" Nicholas cried a few minutes later, finding the right pocket. He pulled out a long scaly thing that looked suspiciously like...

"Sanna _?_ "

Harry's snake curled herself on the palm of Nicholas's hand, and raised her head to eye Harry. " _Human,"_ she hissed, sounding pleased. " _My human. You have returned for me at lassst. I wasss beginning to fear you had forgotten me."_

" _I thought you would be in land-of-fire-and-earth,"_ Harry protested half-heartedly, taking the snake from Nicholas. " _Where were you?"_

" _I ate a large rat,"_ Sanna admitted. " _A very large rat. I needed to sssleep, so I visited young-old-man and young-old-woman. I ssslept for a long time."_

 _"Honessstly,"_ Harry hissed affectionately. " _I missssed you thisss year."_

 _"And I missssed you, human. We ssshall not be parted again?"_

 _"No,"_ Harry promised. " _You're coming with me thisss year."_

Scooping the snake into his pocket, Harry thanked Nicholas fervently for caring for his snake so well over the past few months.

"Oh it was a pleasure," the old man said affably. "Didn't know she was there half the time, to tell you the truth "

" _That'sss because I wasn't,"_ Sanna hissed smugly. " _Went exploring. Young-old-man never noticed."_

 _"_ Thank you again," Harry said to Nick, ignoring his snake who was describing her travels, and a daring encounter with a hawk

"Have a good year," Nick said as he paused by the door. "No more philosophers stones - you should be fine "

"I hope so," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

\\\/

Kingsley and Mad-Eye were reluctant to let Harry go to the Burrow, in spite of it being a safe location. By declaring their support for Crouch publicly and speaking against Malfoy, they had made themselves targets for the supporters of the latter. Harry persuaded them eventually, but it was with great reluctance that Mad-Eye eventually flooed the Burrow to check for threats.

Mad-Eye returned grumpily with the news that the Burrow was, he supposed, an acceptably safe location. The presence of Ron's oldest brother William, who he seemed to like, seemed to also help with the decision.

"Arthur though, mad as a box of frogs," Mad-Eye sniffed. "He's got this car now, claims he's not done anything to it. An idiot could tell the thing's been enchanted."

"You know what he's like," Harry said fondly. All the Weasleys he had met so far had seemed like nice people to him, and he knew Mad-Eye wasn't as cross as he sounded.

"Are you all packed then Potter?"

Harry nodded, gesturing to his trunk which was propped up by the fire. "All set."

"Have a good last week," Kingsley said, entering the room. "With all the chaos before the election here, we wouldn't be very good company, so its very lucky Ron invited you."

"You know I wouldn't have minded helping," Harry protested half heartedly.

"And I know you'd rather be with your friends," Kingsley finished. The man wrapped Harry in an embrace, before patting him on the arm. "Try and stay out of trouble," he implored.

"I'll try," Harry grinned. "Good luck with getting Crouch in."

With that, he stepped into the fireplace with his trunk, and threw down a handful of floo powder.

"The Burrow!"

\\\/

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of six freckly red-headed people, all of whom were beaming at him. He seemed to have arrived in the Weasley's kitchen. It was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and a clock on the wall opposite him that had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late.

Behind Mrs Weasley, Harry could see Ron, Ginny, Fred and George and the tall red-headed man he had seen with Mr Weasley at the ministry. Ginny squeaked as Harry smiled at her, and turned beet red.

"Harry dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, bustling forward to take his trunk. "Lovely to see you."

"Hello Mrs Weasley," Harry smiled. He dug around in his robes, before wandlessly unshrinking a tiny object that turned out to be a pot of deep purple flowers. "I brought you some ever-blooming mollyflowers."

"Mollyflowers?" Mrs Weasley said, taking the pot with interest.

"My neighbour just made them," Harry said. "I named them, and thought you might like the first sample."

Mrs Weasley blushed and seemed delighted, while Fred and George made retching motions behind her back. The Weasley matriarch turned to them sharply.

"Fred, take Harry's trunk to Ron's room would you?" She said, a glint in her eye.

"Honestly mother, I'm George," the twin protested.

'No you're not," Harry said suddenly, brushing soot off his face and grinning broadly. "You're Fred! Your freckles are different!"

Fred and George shared an identical look of horror, and hoisted Harry's trunk between them, fleeing the room before anyone could get a good look at them. "You traitor," George called over his shoulder. "We regret ever helping you!"

"Good to see you mate," Ron grinned, stepping forwards. "You've met Mum and Ginny. This is Bill."

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry hadn't paid much attention at the ministry. He knew that Bill worked for the Wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that he had been Head Boy at Hogwarts; Harry had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was — there was no other word for it —cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it.

"Nice to meet you Harry," Bill smiled, offering his hand.

Harry shook it, and looked around curiously. "Where are Neville and Hermione?" He asked Ron.

"They're in my room," Ron said. "I don't think they heard the floo alarm go off - Hermione's quizzing Neville."

"Quizzing?"

"Homework," Ron said, sounding deeply disturbed.

"Why don't you go and get the bookworms Ron?" Bill said, a glint in his eye. "Once Harry's settled in we could play some quidditch. Neville and Hermione have been avoiding it," Bill added in an undertone to Harry.

"Sounds great," Harry smiled, following Ron. They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wound its way, zigzagging up through the house. On the third landing, Ginny was sitting on the stairs, but when she saw them coming she leapt to her feet and dashed into a doorway.

"Ginny," said Ron. "You don't know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally-"

They climbed two more flights until they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it, saying RONALD'S ROOM .

Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically. Harry's trunk was in the middle of the floor.

"Harry!"

Hermione and Neville were sitting on two small camp beds that almost filled the room. Between them were several potions textbooks.

"Hermione!" Harry said, as she hugged him. "Alright Neville?"

"Hi Harry," Neville said, standing up to greet him. "You look smart. Been at the ministry?"

"Yep, all morning. Sorry I couldn't get here earlier."

"It's alright," Ron said, clearing some magazines that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. He plopped himself down on the edge of the bed. "It's going to be a tight fit," he said apologetically. "Hermione's in Charlie's old room, but you and Neville are sharing with me."

"We'll manage," Harry smiled. He shrunk his trunk wandlessly, and pushed it under Ron's bed.

"You can't use magic outside of school!" Hermione gasped.

"I can without a wand," Harry grinned mischievously.

"Speaking of which, guess what?" Neville squeaked, bouncing up and down on the bed.

"What?"

"Gran's given me some money to buy a new wand!"

"Fantastic!" Harry cheered, while Hermione patted Neville on the shoulder. "That'll help so much."

"I know," Neville beamed. "She said my father's wand is a good second wand, but really I need my own."

"What about you Ron?" Hermione asked, putting down the heavy textbook she had been leaning on to write.

"Me?"

"Yes. Isn't your wand secondhand?"

Ron looked at his wand, which was lying on top of a pile of book. It was certainly old and battered, with greasy fingermarks all over it. "It used to be Charlie's," he admitted ruefully. "But mum can't afford a new wand for me. Ginny starts Hogwarts this year, she needs a wand too."

Harry privately determined to buy Ron a new wand, no matter what the other boy insisted. It was too risky to walk around with a wand that wasn't properly tuned to you, especially in the kind of situations they had already found themselves in.

\\\/

Later that evening after a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Weasley, they decided to grab all the brooms they could find, and head up to play some quidditch. Harry was very interested to get his first look at the outside of the Burrow.

It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up with magic. Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW . Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

Harry, Neville, Hermione and all the Weasley children except Percy were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning as they walked up the book, broomsticks over their shoulder's. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"I got twelve and I never gloated," Bill pointed out.

"Yes but you weren't a little ponce like Percy," George said. "Although you were head boy. If we're not careful we might end up with another in the family. I'm not sure I could stand the shame."

Bill cuffed George around the back on the head, and then Fred for good measure. "Nothing wrong with being head boy," he said mildly.

Harry had brought a special set of quidditch balls he had purchased in Diagon Alley at Christmas. Since he had never played quidditch before, and was hoping to be selected for his house team, he was eager to get some practice in. The balls were enchanted not to fly away, which helped because it would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village.

They took turns riding Charlie's Silver Arrow, which was easily the best broom there. Harry made a mental note to get Ron and and Neville brooms for Christmas if they made it onto the house teams. Ron's Shooting Star was outstripped by passing butterflies. However it turned out to be perfect for one person. Hermione was very nervous on a broom. She refused to get on any except the Shooting Star, and drifted nervously, not comfortable steering at all. Eventually Ginny decided to ride double with her, and show her the ropes.

"When did Ginny get so good?" Harry heard Fred muttering to George. He sounded both impressed and annoyed.

Neville was also extremely nervous after his fall earlier in the year. Harry and Ron flew on either side of him, sticking close as they taught him the rudiments of flying, while Fred, George and Bill zoomed around them chucking the quaffle back and forth. Eventually Neville gained enough confidence to fly on his own, and they formed teams.

Bill, Fred, George and Neville faced off against Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. They were fairly evenly matched at first, until Neville grew so confident he began scoring with ease. Harry had underestimated just what a summer in Uganda would do for his friend. Neville had lost all of his pudgy baby fat, and grown taller. Working in the sun for a month had given him a deep tan, and he seemed far more at ease in his own skin.

They were in a dead tie as the sun began sinking over the edge of the horizon. "We need to go in," Bill said, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Mum'll be worried."

"One deciding goal?" Ron challenged, narrowing his eyes at Neville.

"Bring it," Neville scowled back.

"Cavemen," Hermione whispered to Ginny, who giggled nervously as she glanced at Harry.

Bill hurled the quaffle high into the air, and Neville and Ron streaked after it. Neville though was on the faster broom, and caught the quaffle first. Ron tried to block him but he dodged, and quickly threw the red ball towards the two trees they were using as goalposts.

"Yeesss!" Fred and George roared as Neville scored. "Neville's the man!"

As they walked down The hill, Ron was still complaining about Neville having an unfair advantage on!them faster broom. Hermione rolled her eyes fondly at him. They were so noisy that Harry almost missed Bill gesturing to Harry to join him. Harry was confused, but left Hermione's side and moved over to the oldest Weasley. Stepping a little way away from the main group, Bill looked at Harry seriously for a moment.

"Did I see you at the ministry this morning?" Bill asked, falling into step behind the main party.

"Yes, I saw you too," Harry responded.

"Look, this is rather difficult to say..." Bill seemed to be struggling with something, and Harry waited patiently. "Who are you supporting for Minister?" Bill asked at last.

"Oh," Harry said, taken aback as he realised their statement wouldn't have been publicly released yet. "We're supporting Mr Crouch."

"Crouch?" Bill frowned. " I would have pegged you more for an Amos Diggory or Amelia Bones supporter."

"Normally," Harry admitted. "But they don't have enough public support. We're voting strategically to keep Malfoy out."

"Ah," Bill nodded. "Father and I were thinking of supporting Madam Bones, but if it's a matter of keeping Lucius out of the job..."

"Exactly. Crouch is the only one with a shot, since Malfoy is bribing everybody."

"I'll have to think about that," Bill mused as the bright lights of the Burrow came into view.

"Do," Harry stressed. The very idea of Lucius Malfoy as Minister of Magic was enough to make him want to leave the country and never return.

"Anyway I'm sure the news will tell us more about how the contenders are faring tomorrow." Bill said

"I'm sure it will That's what I'm afraid of. A nice big headline saying _Malfoy for Minister_."

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **\- Cas**


	22. Chapter 22

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Four**

 **\\\/**

Spending time at the Burrow was the closest Harry had ever come to living in a conventional wizard home, and it was a bizarre experience. The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's room were considered perfectly normal. The family congregated for every meal together, and the noise never seemed to stop.

But the biggest difference was Mrs Weasley. Harry had grown up loved dearly by his two male guardians, but they had never mothered him. Kingsley had been very protective, and Ugandan men were physically affectionate in general, but Harry was surprised to realise something - and he couldn't put his finger on what it was - was different when it was a mother.

Mrs Weasley was always awake in the morning when Harry and Ron got up for their early morning jog around the orchard, and she always had a full breakfast ready for them when they came inside. Ron didn't seem to notice anything, but Harry came from a world where nobody catered to anybody's special habits. Mrs Weasley commented approvingly on how nice to was to see Ron taking such good care of himself, and within a few days, Neville began to join them.

"Since Uganda I've been waking up at sunrise everyday anyway," Neville had explained. Indeed, after losing all his puppy fat in Africa, Neville easily kept up with Harry and Ron as they jogged around the orchard panting, kicking the odd stray gnome out of their path.

"Do you think we should ask Hermione?" Neville asked, as they wiped sweat from their foreheads and dunked their heads in a barrel of water outside the Weasleys front door.

"To do what? Run with us?" Harry said, shaking his wet head like a dog and making water spray everywhere.

"Argh! You splashed me," Ron complained, tackling Harry around the waist. Harry twisted and used Ron's momentum to send him crashing to the ground. The redhead leapt up, grinning, covered in dust.

"I'll get you for that Potter."

"Bring it!"

Neville shook his head, watching the two boys tussling in the dirt. Grunts and oomphs came from the tangle of arms and legs, but Neville was almost certain Harry was holding back so as not to bruise Ron's ego. Suddenly there was a bang as the front door slammed open.

"Fighting in the yard at six in the morning!" Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.

Harry and Ron stood up immediately, both of them brushing dust from their clothes and looking sheepish. "Sorry mum," Ron mumbled.

"I should think so! Could have woken the household, your father didn't get back from work until a few hours ago!"

"I'm sorry Mrs Weasley," Harry said sincerely, looking up through his eyelashes at Mrs Weasley and trying to look as apologetic as he could.

Mrs Weasley softened immediately. "I'm sure it was Ron's fault, Harry dear," she said, casting a glare in the direction of her youngest son. "Come in, breakfast is almost ready."

As the only one not covered in dirt, Neville received an approving look. Ron scowled at Harry as they followed Mrs Weasley into the house in single file.

"Yeah, we should ask Hermione," Ron whispered to Neville. "Mum likes her."

\\\/

After showering, Harry, Neville and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. Before they could open them though, there was a loud clattering from the window. They looked up in time to see a handsome tawny owl swoop through the window and drop three thick, official-looking envelopes on the table, before departing with a haughty hoot, and a disdainful look at the Weasley owl, Errol.

"Voting slips," Mr Weasley exclaimed. "One for you and I, Molly, and one for Bill."

"Why can't we vote?" Ron complained, reaching for the marmalade.

"Yeah it's not fair," a voice agreed. Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas, followed by Bill who was fully dressed, with his long hair loose around his shoulders.

"You've got to be seventeen George," Mrs Weasley frowned.

"Harry can't vote for six years, and he's influenced most of the voters!" Fred said, gesturing at a newspaper that lay on the bench. Only the headline and first few lines were visible.

 _Potter Speaks Out_

 _Harry Potter may be only eleven years old, but he spoke with a wisdom and maturity beyond his years as we spoke to him outside the ministry this morning. "Bartemius Crouch is our best option," Mr Potter said firmly. "He has displayed a moral fortitude and determination that bodes well for Britain should the future hold -_

The rest of the article was covered by a bowl of peas that were shelling themselves merrily.

"Yes well," Mrs Weasley said reluctantly. "That's different. Harry is in a different position to most eleven year olds."

"I wish I could vote," Ginny said unexpectedly.

"Do you?" Harry said with interest.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day." He sat down in the only remaining chair, and pulled a bowl towards him.

"Who would you vote for Perce?" Fred asked, a sly look in his eye.

Percy puffed up his chest. "Mr Crouch, of course. Quite aside from young Harry's recommendation, Mr Crouch's record speaks for itself. He is a fine, upstanding man. I've never met him personally of course, but he has answered several of my questions by owl about a possible future at the ministry, and I am very grateful to him."

"Suck up," George muttered.

"Be quiet and read your letters," Mrs Weasley said sharply, ruffling Percy's hair. "There's one here for you too, Percy dear."

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. The book list made him smile.

"Look," he said, peering over Ron's shoulder to see if his list was the same. "Remus wants _Defense for Dummies._ We got those for Christmas - that's one thing less."

"That's on our list too," Fred complained. "We're third years!"

"Remus probably wants to start at the bottom with everyone, considering how erratic the teaching has been," Harry shrugged.

"But he'll have to leave at the end of the year too," Hermione said, walking into the room looking rather flustered. "Sorry I'm late. The door handle tried to bite me every time I went to open it."

Fred and George looked embarrassed. "Sorry Hermione," Fred said guiltily. "Forgot we did that to Charlie's room."

"It was quite ingenious actually," Hermione said. Bill stood up and offered Hermione his chair, passing her the Hogwarts letter addressed to her. Fred and George exchanged incredulous looks.

Mrs Weasley was frowning at the voting slip. It was a silver piece of parchment that was pulsating slightly, and had _Molly Weasley_ written in blue, swirling writing across the top.

"Amelia Bones would make a wonderful Minister," Mrs Weasley sighed, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.

"I thought we discussed this Molly," Mr Weasley said, darting a quick look at Bill, who was also surveying his slip. Harry kept his eyes on his plate, but focussed very hard with his peripheral vision.

"We did," Molly said with resignation. Harry watched her slowly write _Bartemius Crouch_ on the slip. The slip began vibrating harder, and turned gold. The writing on it vanished, and a few seconds later the slip burst into flames. Mrs Weasley shrieked and dropped it, but the fire had already burnt itself out into a pile of ashes.

"It's been a decade since the last election. I forgot they did that," Mrs Weasley said self-consciously, beginning to gather plates from the table.

"Anyway now that's settled, shall we all take a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow? There's only a few days until school starts after all. They've left it to the last minute this year."

"Sounds like a plan," Bill said. "I need to check in with Gringotts anyway."

"Great," Ron said, stuffing a last sausage in his mouth and jumping to his feet. "Quidditch again today?"

"I wanted to see the village," Hermione said, sounding disappointed. Mrs Weasley cast a stern look in Ron's direction, and he capitulated almost immediately.

"Yeah...village."

They walked into the village of Ottery St Catchpole, which was only about ten minutes away, and spent a relatively dull morning there. The village turned out to be almost entirely muggle. There wasn't much to it. Just a collection of houses, a post office, a church and a few shops. Neville though, stared in wonder at almost everything they passed.

"Is that the place where people worship that dead muggle?" Neville asked curiously, as they passed the little stone church.

"I can't believe I never knew that's what it was for!" Ron exclaimed. Then his eyes grew even wider as they entered. "Woah."

The stained glass windows cast bright colours across the pews, and the inside was very beautiful. There were flowers in bunches everywhere, and white drapes across the alter. A large cross hung in the middle, with an emaciated figure hanging from it.

"Is that him?" Neville whispered.

"Jesus Christ," Hermione confirmed.

"Muggles are so weird," Ron sighed, shaking his head at the figure in pity. "I reckon he was a wizard. I asked Bill about the miracles, and it sounds like magic to me."

"If he was a wizard, he wouldn't have let himself get nailed to the cross though," Harry said reasonably as they approached the cross.

"Illusion?"

"Maybe he was Merlin in disguise."

They saw very little else of interest in the village, and headed back around lunchtime. The rest of the day was dedicated to playing quidditch, much to the pleasure of everyone except Hermione.

\\\/

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following day. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flower pot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today. . . . Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"

"Thanks," Harry said. He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Harry. He stepped right into it, and shouted "Diagon Alley!

Harry managed not to stumble as he stepped out of the fire at the other end, and quickly moved away to make room for the next person, who turned out to be a slightly green Neville. When all of them eventually congregated outside, Mrs Weasley did a quick headcount.

"Alright everyone. Now we're here, I think I would be best if we split up to do our shopping. We can meet for lunch at twelve. Ginny, you come with me dear."

Ginny scowled. "I want to go with Hermione."

"You're too young to go without us," Mrs Weasley said firmly. "There are all sorts in Diagon Alley, and you need a full set of everything."

"No, it's alright, why don't I come with you instead?" Hermione suggested, looking apologetically at Harry, Neville and Ron. Ginny smiled triumphantly.

"Well if you're sure Hermione..." Mrs Weasley was getting flustered. There were so many of them they were blocking the entrance to the floo station, and they were drawing odd looks from passers by.

"I'm sure," Hermione said firmly. "See you later boys. Let's go Ginny!"

Harry, Neville and Ron wandered down the alleyway. "What was that about?" Neville asked, as they stopped by the apothecary to refill on their potions supplies. Sanna, who was wrapped around Harry's wrist, poked her head out of his sleeve with interest at all the new smells.

" _I sssmell dead ssssnakes, human,"_ she hissed. Harry ignored her, as he selected several shredded snakeskins.

"Ginny loves Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes, scooping some beetle eyes into a paper bag. "She's grown up with five brothers, and Loopy from over the hill. Hermione's the first normal girl Ginny's had a chance to meet, and Hermione even let Ginny teach her how to fly."

"She must have been lonely," Harry commented, wondering if it was why Ginny was so shy around him.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "She seemed alright. Mad about you though. Dad told her stupid stories about you growing up, and she thinks it's all real."

"Stupid stories?"

They left the apothecary, and walked down the winding alleyway, stepping into Flourish and Blotts to pick up their books. Spotting Blaise Zabini shopping with his terrifying looking mother, Harry waved. Blaise ignored Harry, who chuckled to himself. He had expected nothing less.

"Yeah, just stories about how you defeated you-know-who," Ron continued as they searched for their books.

"That doesn't sound healthy," Harry frowned.

"Obviously it wasn't. She can't even look at Harry," Neville said thoughtfully. "I suppose it wouldn't have mattered if Harry hadn't been friends with Ron."

They paid for their books, and left the bookshop without bumping into anyone else they knew. As they perused the rest of the alley though, they saw several of their classmates. The Patil twins were enjoying icecreams in Fortescue's, and giggled when they noticed Harry. They encountered Daphne Greengrass in Madam Malkin's, and she gave Harry a slow smile as she asked him how he liked her new robes. Harry, familiar with how the pureblooded girls behaved, took it in his stride and told her she looked very fetching.

In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of bro-ken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.

"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating. . . ."

"Go away," Percy snapped.

" 'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out. . . . He wants to be Minister of Magic . . ." Ron told Harry and Neville in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

Eventually they stood outside Eyelops Owl Emporium, looking up and down the street. Harry consulted with his shopping list, reading down it slowly. "I've got everything," he said. "Neville, you still need to get your wand."

Neville looked nervous and excited. "Alright," he squeaked.

Ollivanders was as dim and musty as Harry remembered it, and the door swung shut behind them with a gentle bell sound. Harry looked around, shivering in the slight chill. It was dimly lit, and the piles of wand boxes were mounting higher. It took Harry a moment to realise they weren't alone.

A pale, fragile girl stood in front of the desk. She had a faintly ethereal look about her, and had dirty blonde hair pulled into a plait. Harry was surprised she was alone, as she couldn't have been older than eleven. She was wearing an odd collection of clothing, in varying shades of purple, and two different types of shoes.

"Luna!" Ron said with surprise.

The girl turned around slowly. She had very wide spaced eyes, and a dreamy expression. "Hello Ronald," she said calmly, as though they had met by pre-arrangement.

"I didn't know you started Hogwarts this year," Ron said.

"Yes," Luna said. "I start at the same time as Ginny." Her eyes travelled over the three of them, and came to rest on Harry.

"You're Harry Potter," she informed him, looking at his scar intently.

"I am," Harry said, smiling at her. "Did Ron say your name was Luna?"

"Yes, it is," the girl said dreamily.

"Nice to meet you Luna. This is our other friend Neville."

Neville stepped forward and held out his hand to Luna, who regarded it with considerable interest, but made no move to take it. Neville withdrew his hand, blushing furiously. "Nice to meet you Luna," he mumbled. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and a door at the back of the shop flew open, the wandmaker appearing.

Mr Ollivander walked towards the desk quickly, muttering to himself as he twisted a box around in his hands. "Your wand is ready Miss Love- ahh." Ollivander looked up, and seemed surprised to see four of them.

"What a pleasant surprise," Ollivander murmured. Then he turned to Luna. "Your wand should be perfectly functional my dear. The best of luck to you."

"Thank you Mr Ollivander," Luna said softly, nodding to the old man. She stared at each of the boys in turn as she left the shop, and Neville shuffled his feet nervously.

"Mr Potter, I'm surprised to see you here again. No problems with your wand, I take it?"

"None," Harry smiled. "I only really use it for classwork, so its not had much wear."

"Perfect," Ollivander beamed. "What then, can I do for you today?"

"I need a wand," Neville stepped forward bravely. Ollivander turned his pale eye towards Neville and eyed him curiously. Neville swallowed.

"Mr Longbottom," Ollivander stated. It wasn't a question. "I expected to see you here a year ago."

"I've been using my dad's wand," Neville admitted, holding it up to show Ollivander.

"Ah yes. Birch and phoenix feather. Ten inches. Worked very well for your father, but totally unsuitable for you of course Mr Longbottom. Try this - Alder and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Flexible."

And so it began. The pile of wands began to mount higher as Neville proved to be a tricky customer. Ron looked on longingly, and Harry idly twirled his wand. Until finally -

" Cherry and unicorn hair. Eleven inches. Nice and swishy."

Neville raised the wand, and brought it swishing through the air. A stream of red and gold sparks shot out of the end and flooded the little shop with light. Harry and Ron applauded.

"Very good Mr Longbottom," Ollivander cried. "An excellent wand for defensive spells, and I wish you the best of luck. Seven galleons please."

Then Ollivander turned to Ron. "As for you Mr Weasley. Can I interest you in replacing your family wand?"

"I can't -" Ron began.

"Yes you can," Harry cut smoothly. "Christmas present. Ron would like a new wand please Mr Ollivander."

Ollivander began pulling boxes from the walls, as Ron turned to Harry furiously. "You can't do that!"

"Please Ron," Harry sighed. "Don't get offended. You need a proper wand if you're going to use it to its full extent."

"Try this," Ollivander interjected, handing Ron a long slim wand. They watched as Ron went through a series of wands, Mr Ollivander tapping his fingers happily on the counter. "You know," the old wandmaker said conversationally to Ron. "I was surprised your family still had so many wands to pass down."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, putting an short birch wand back in its box.

"Well," the old man said thoughtfully. "Do you remember what I said to you at Christmas about that curious wand phenomenon?"

"What was it called? The magpie?" Harry asked. He didn't remember much about the conversation.

"The Wooden Magpie," Ollivander said, a gleam appearing in his eyes. "The disappearance of wands in their thousands over the past hundred years or so."

"I remember," Ron said thoughtfully. "I asked mum. She said that both her parents wands disappeared, but she thought they were just misplaced. Charlie gave me his wand when he got a new one though, not after he died."

"Hence why there is still a wand for you to inherit," Ollivander said, nodding. He passed Ron another box. "Pine and Thestral tail hair. Try it."

Ron raised the wand aloft, and waved it wildly. At once, bright blue sparks flooded out the end, and they momentarily looked like they had been plunged underwater.

"Perfect Mr Weasley!" Ollivander praised, taking the wand back from Ron. As he began to wrap up the wand, Harry asked another question.

"Do you have any idea yet what's happening to the wands?"

"It's curious you should ask that," Ollivander said, pausing to fix Harry in his sights. "Because very recently, a wandmaker from France came to our annual European Wandmakers Convention with a new claim."

"What was it?"

"He thought that house elves were involved," Ollivander cackled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Claims that someone out there is collecting them, and using house elves to do it."

"House elves wouldn't steal," Neville said with surprise.

"They might if they were ordered to," Harry said thoughtfully.

"It seems unlikely," Ollivander said, taking the money Harry offered him, as Ron thanked Harry fervently. "Well, good luck with your new wands. I imagine I'll be seeing your sister later Mr Weasley."

"You will," Ron confirmed. "Thank you again."

The rest of their trip to the Alley was uneventful. They finished their shopping in short time, and met up with Hermione, Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley in the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny was clutching an enormous pile of parcels, and looked immensely excited. Mrs Weasley ordered them all glasses of pumpkin juice, which she refused to allow Harry to pay for. Suddenly, Harry realised he had almost forgot to do something. Slipping off his stool, he turned to the others apologetically.

"I've just got one thing I forgot," Harry said, putting his hand in his pocket to check he had what he needed. "I won't be a minute."

"Not to worry," Mrs Weasley said. "We'll still be here."

"Do you want us to come with you?" Neville asked.

"No!" Harry yelped, before catching himself. "Err. No, it's alright thanks Neville. I won't be long."

Harry turned and quickly wound his way through the throng in the bar, and back out into the sunshine of the alley. Neville had almost ruined his surprise for the others. Harry stopped outside Madam Malkin's, and withdrew three miniature packages from his pocket. Resizing them, he entered the robe shop. The packages contained the items he had bought from the trader in the Ugandan market.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young lady being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, Harry was surprised to see Luna again, the pale blonde girl from the wand shop. She was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up her long black robes.

"Hello Luna," Harry said. "No thank you Madam Malkin, I was hoping you could help me with these actually."

Harry shook open one of the packages, and showed Madam Malkin the garment inside. The robemaker gasped when she saw what lay inside. "Oh my...where did you get this?" She exclaimed breathlessly.

"Private seller," Harry said shortly, not wanting to get into a long explanation. "What I want to know though, is if you can make it fit for Hogwarts."

"Fit for?"

"You know, put the Hogwarts crest on, add the house colours."

"I..oh yes," Madam Malkin said,seeming to return to herself. "Of course. What house?"

"Two Slytherin, one Ravenclaw and one Gryffindor," Harry said. "I know you keep magical measurements for every customer you serve, so please adjust these to fit Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. Oh, and me."

"Of course Mr Potter," Madam Malkin said, handling the fabric reverently. "They'll be ready in an hour."

"That's fine. I'll come back then," Harry nodded. Luna seemed to have finished her fitting, for she came over to Harry and looked at the cloth.

"That's nice," she said in her sing-song voice. "Did whisperweaver worms make it?"

Harry blinked at Luna, not sure he had heard correctly. Deciding not to ask, he just shook his head. "No Luna," he said, holding the door open for her. "I really don't think they did."

Luna and Harry walked back down the street, Harry curiously asking Luna about how she knew the Weasleys. Luna had just described where she lived to Harry, when he caught sight of a flash of platinum hair. Turning sharply, Harry caught sight of Lucius Malfoy and Draco, who was in the company of Pansy Parkinson. Harry felt his lip curl.

Lucius Malfoy had not taken well to Harry's attempts to sabotage his campaign. Harry had given interviews publicly decrying the elder Malfoys play for leadership. He brought up the decade old accusation that Malfoy was a deatheater, asked what Malfoy had ever done for the country, and generally mocked him for being a rich, over-privileged barely-escaped-conviction criminal. In return, Malfoy had tried to paint Harry as an attention seeking child, but it hadn't worked. The public had come out in favour of Harry.

"What's wrong?" Luna asked curiously, as Harry came to a standstill. Lucius saw Harry and fixed him with a glare, which Harry returned.

"Nothing," Harry muttered. "Keep walking Luna."

Only when Malfoy was out of sight did Harry relax. "Sorry Luna but I've got to run," he said. "But I'll see you at Hogwarts I'm sure."

"That would be nice," Luna said, fixing Harry with her odd stare. "Goodbye Harry Potter."

Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron with his order complete, and they all flooed back to the Burrow. It wasn't until later that night that Harry realised what had made him so uncomfortable about Luna. She was alone - entirely alone. There was no parent with her, and she hadn't mentioned meeting anyone. Perhaps her parents had simply been in another shop, Harry mused. But he hasn't got that impression from their conversation, and resolved to ask Ron more.

\\\/

 **I had quite a bit of trouble getting this out. I had a few negative reviews for the last chapter, complaining that the story was too angst-ridden, and all the good guys got persecuted while the bad guys got powerful. Here's my argument - My 'good guys' are getting considerably powered up. Harry can perform wandless, wordless magic that is immensely powerful, and all four of them have begun receiving defensive training. In order to make the story interesting, the other side also has to have an increased power level, otherwise it becomes boring, as all the good guys take out the evil characters with relative ease.**

 **I've put an enormous amount of thought into this story. I have a huge spreadsheet where I keep all my plotlines, or I'd get completely lost. When people insult my writing, I'm not really bothered by it. I know I'm not a very good writer, but I do this for fun. When people insult my storyline though, that upsets me because I work so hard on making it well thought-out, and carefully planned in advance.**

 **Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this, is still reading this, and those who review and let me know. There's a special place in fandom heaven for the kind of people who review every chapter, as I'm sure every ff author would agree.**

 **Next chapter on Wednesday**

 **\- Cas**


	23. Chapter 23

**Sorry I'm late.**

 **It was quite heartwarming having people ask why I didn't update yesterday as promised. That people pay that much attention is very flattering. The answer is that Google drive has failed me again. I opened the document that was supposed to be this chapter yesterday, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. The document existed, but it was blank. So I had to rewrite the whole thing from memory last night, and edit it this morning. Exhausting, but we got there only a day late.**

 **I was really touched by some of the reviews for the last chapter. It means a lot that people enjoy my rambling.**

 **Year Two**

 **Chapter Five**

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As the end of the summer holidays arrived, Harry was looking forwards to returning to Hogwarts. The week he had spent at the Burrow had been a fascinating time, and a great way to relax. But Harry felt duty weighing heavily on him, and couldn't wait to get back to the castle and start lessons with Remus Lupin, work into his ties with the Slytherin, and most of all, find out who had won the election.

Kingsley and Mad-Eye had been in touch every day for the past week, letting him know how the election campaign was going. Bartemius Crouch seemed to be in the lead, but barely. Harry gave interviews through the Weasley's floo, and it felt like the deluge of mail never stopped. Harry had apologised to the Weasley's for bringing politics into their home, but Mr Weasley had told him not to be so silly, and they were glad to help keep Malfoy out of power.

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of their favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least half an hour. Then it was time for a last mug of hot chocolate and time for bed.

Harry caught Neville by the shoulder as the shorter boy made to leave the kitchen. "Bring Hermione to our room would you?" Harry muttered. It was time to show them the surprise he had brought all the way back from Uganda with him. Neville nodded his understanding, and stepped back to speak to Hermione.

Harry, Ginny and Ron helped Mrs Weasley put away the dishes before heading upstairs. But when they went up to Ron's room, feeling thoroughly overstuffed from all the rich food, they were surprised to find that Neville and Hermione were not alone. There was something sitting on the bed between them, and it looked exceptionally pleased to see them.

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione hissed, as soon as they entered the room. "It just appeared! Out of nowhere! Is it yours?"

The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honor it is. . . ."

"Harry's fault," Ron said, sounding relieved.

Harry moved forward to eye the elf curiously. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature, gazing up at Harry.

"I see," Harry said slowly. "Now I don't mean to be rude or anything, but is there any particular reason you're in Ron's house?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir . . . it is difficult, sir . . . Dobby wonders where to begin. . . ."

"Sit down," said Harry, pointing at the bed. A moment later, he realised his mistake. The elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.

"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never . . . never ever . . ."

Harry thought he heard a creak on the stairs.

"Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an equal —"

Harry sighed. "Marley isn't like this," he muttered to Ron, Neville and Hermione. All of them were staring, and seemed content to let him converse with the elf without their assistance. Hermione was eying the rags Dobby was dressed in with an unreadable expression.

Harry sat Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration

"Alright Dobby. Can you keep talking now?" Harry asked firmly. He had long ago learnt that where house elves were concerned, it was far better to try and keep them on track, as they had the tendency to go off on unfortunate tangents. Dobby sniffed, and nodded slowly.

"Good. Can you tell me what you're here for now?"

To Harry's alarm, Dobby opened his mouth to speak, and then suddenly hurled himself towards the window. Neville caught him by the ankle as he lunged, and tossed him on the bed.

"Sorry," Neville muttered awkwardly, when Hermione gave him a furious glare. "Didn't mean to throw him. He's lighter than I expected."

"What are you doing Dobby?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Dobby is sorry," the elf wailed. "Dobby finds it hard to share his master's secrets."

Harry and the other three shared significant glances, but Dobby seemed to be working himself up to something, so they didn't interrupt. Eventually Dobby won the battle, and lowered his hands from his mouth.

"Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later. . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

For a moment there was silence. Then Harry burst out laughing. "You can't be serious Dobby," he said , shaking his head. "Of course I'm going back to Hogwarts."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cried Harry. Neville reached out and grabbed the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand."

Hermione leaned forwards, looking intently at the elf. "Dobby," she said softly. "If we ask you questions, can you shake or nod your head?"

Neville let go of Dobby's arm. Slowly, elf nodded.

"Alright," Harry said with relief. "These terrible things. Are they going to endanger the whole school."

Dobby gave a shaky nod.

"You mentioned your masters secrets. Is your master involved?"

Another nod.

"Who is your master?" Ron asked, then jumped back in alarm when Dobby threw himself forwards and smacked his head on the edge of the bed.

"Bad Dobby!" The elf hissed. "Bad Dobby!"

"Stop it!" Hermione said, distress on her face as she leaned down to pull the elf away from the bed. "We said only yes and no questions Ron!"

"Sorry," Ron said sheepishly. "Erm. Would we know your master Dobby!"

The elf nodded, giving Harry a look that he was clearly supposed to interpret.

"Is he a friend?"

A head shake.

"Alright," sighed Harry. "We're getting nowhere. Let's get back to these terrible things at Hogwarts. Is anyone going to get hurt?"

Vigorous nodding.

"Anyone in particular?"

Dobby didn't seem able to answer that one. He shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again, before attempting to bang his head on the floor.

"That's a possibly then," Harry muttered, picking up the elf.

"Can we do anything to stop it?" Hermione asked softly.

Dobby looked at each of them intently, before shaking his head, his ears drooping.

"Then we're going back," Harry said firmly. "We have friends in that school. Ron has family. His younger sister is only starting this year. There's no way we would leave them to face any kind of danger on their own."

"But Harry Potter!" Dobby wailed.

"I am not a coward," Harry said softly. "Not a child to run and hide from trouble. I can defend myself."

Without speaking, he waved his hand at Dobby. The elf was lifted slowly into the air, like an exceptionally ugly fairy.

"Harry Potter does not need a wand," the elf squeaked in shock.

"See?" Harry said, lowering Dobby gently back to the bed. "I can look after myself."

"We all can," Ron added bravely. Neville and Hermione nodded their agreement.

Dobby's ears drooped as he looked at the four determined faces. None of them broke eye contact.

"Dobby can see that Harry Potter will not change his mind," the elf said after a long moment. "But Dobby wishes he would. Harry Potter is brave and selfless, and would rather put himself in danger than leave his friends."

Just then there was an alarmingly loud creak on the stairs, and Dobby's eyes shot to the door.

"Dobby will go now," the elf said quickly. "Good luck Harry Potter." Before they could say another word, there was a loud _crack,_ and Dobby disappeared.

For a moment none of them spoke. Then Ron broke the silence.

"I think I prefer your other elf," he said to Harry, throwing himself back onto the bed and stretching. "Marley's a nutter, but at least he's not full of conspiracy theories."

" _The elf ssstank of darknesss,"_ Sanna hissed, poking her scaly head out of Harry's sleeve. His snake had taken up her usual residence wrapped around Harry's left wrist ever since he had been reunited with her, and only vanished at night to hunt the various rodents found in the garden around the Weasley property. She listened to everything that went on around him, but rarely chose to comment.

"What did she say?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Apparently Dobby 'stank of darkness'," Harry quoted.

"He didn't seem evil," Neville said, sounding worried.

"Maybe it's because his family is bad," Hermione mused. "Ask Sanna what she means."

Harry asked, but the snake had already gone back to sleep. Harry rolled his eyes fondly. He had never known an animal sleep as much as his snake did. After a moment, Harry remembered why they were there.

"By the way," Harry said. "There's a reason I called you in Hermione."

"Oh?"

Harry reached into his pocket, feeling for something. He discarded several coins from various countries, a length of string, his emergency portkey and his spare wand, before his fingers eventually closed over the small packages he had collected from Madam Malkin's. They had been shrunk so none of the Weasleys noticed him carrying them, and enquired as to their contents. Pulling the three small parcels from his robes, he wordlessly resized them. They had been wrapped in brown paper, and bound with twine. Each had a name on the front.

"Here you are," Harry grinned, tossing a parcel to each of his friends. "Present from Uganda."

"What's this Harry?" Hermione asked, turning her parcel over in her hands, but not opening it.

"Open it and see," Harry laughed. "You too," he said to Ron and Neville. For a moment there was silence, except for the ripping of paper. Then there were gasps of disbelief.

"Harry you can't! This is too much!" Hermione said, pulling out the contents of her parcel.

Each parcel contained a full set of Wizarding Robes, made of the finest, highest quality _Uchawi Pamba._ The Magical cotton that was unbreakable, self-cleaning, and tough as dragonhide. The fabric that could stop any spell, short of the killing curse. The robes were a deep, rich, velvety black. They looked heavy, although they were light as air, and bore a characteristic sheen. Each had been customised skilfully with the Hogwarts crest and, the house colours.

"I thought it was illegal to own these if you weren't Ugandan," Neville breathed, holding up the robes and running his hands over the silky fabric.

"Illegal to sell these outside of Uganda," Harry corrected. "You can only buy them from within the country, and considering how hard it is to even get into the country...well you can imagine how many sets of these robes have actually made it out. There are probably only about ten sets in Britain, yours included."

"Harry mate," Ron said, sounding awed. "You can't. Hermione's right, this is too much, you've got me a new wand as well."

"You earned them," Harry pointed out. "You came to Uganda for a month, to keep me company over the summer and you worked. You were given the choice, and you could have spent the summer lying around in the sun, but instead you got up there with the other men and you worked damn hard. You deserve those robes."

"Harry, thank you," Neville said quietly. Harry was moved to see there were tears in his eyes, and quickly pretended not to have noticed.

"You're welcome," Harry smiled. There was a creak outside the door on the landing and they all froze. In silence, they listened closely. There were no sounds.

"Anyway," said Harry. "The robes -"

The silence was shattered as the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped her set of robes; Sanna awoke and tightened around Harry's wrist, hissing indignantly; Ron jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked his head on the opposite wall; and Harry instinctively dived for his wand before realizing that he was looking up at Mrs. Weasley, whose hair was disheveled and whose face was contorted with rage.

"I'm so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm sure you all need your rest... but it's gone midnight, Hermione was supposed to be sleeping in Charlie's old room if I recall correctly, and I was under the impression that you had agreed."

"Oh yes," said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books flying in every direction. "I am...I'm sorry sorry..."

With an anguished look at Harry, Neville and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum," Ron said, shaking his head and wincing. "She's only upset because Ginny's going to Hogwarts tomorrow. Takes it out on us."

" _You humansss have no ressspect for sssleep,"_ Sanna complained, retreating back up Harry's sleeve. " _Make the loud one go away."_

 _"Ssshe's gone,"_ Harry said, amused. " _Go back to sssleep Sssanna."_

The snake did not reply. Ron and Neville eyed Harry's sleeve warily, but said nothing. They eventually settled down to sleep, but Harry lay awake for a long time, wondering what morning would bring - and with it, their new Minister.

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The next morning found Harry sitting at the kitchen table as the sun rose. Kingsley had sent Harry an owl, saying he would floo through as soon as the election results were announced, and possibly bring a reporter from the Daily Prophet, who wanted a quote on his reaction. Harry had prepared a few speeches, and was prepared for every eventuality. But none of them wanted to imagine a world in which Malfoy was Minister of Magic.

Mrs Weasley stifled a yawn as she placed a bowl of porridge in front of Harry. "Thanks Mrs Weasley," Harry said gratefully. She ruffled his hair, apparently too tired to reply.

Ron, Neville and Hermione were still asleep. Although Hermione had begun reluctantly joining them for their morning jog, Harry had left them all in bed this morning. Considering they had a long day ahead of them heading back to Hogwarts, he thought it best to let them sleep in for once. The house was the most silent Harry had ever heard it.

Shortly after six, the fire flamed emerald green. Harry looked up expectantly, as the tall form of Kingsley Shacklebolt emerged into the Weasley kitchen.

"Well?" Harry asked, too tired and wound up to bother with pleasantries. Luckily Kingsley understood perfectly, and didn't keep him in suspense.

"We won," Kingsley smiled, his white teeth flashing in his dark face. "Or rather, Crouch did. Malfoy should be getting the news about now."

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, relief rising in him and making him feel like he could float. Just the thought of dealing with Draco Malfoy as the son of the Minister of Magic was enough to make him want to drop out of Hogwarts. "Yes! Really?!"

"Just announced," Kingsley said, pulling up a seat next to Harry. "They've been finalising the votes all night. Malfoy came a close second, but he shot himself in the foot in the last round, by trying to paint you as some attention seeker. The public love you right now, and while you're the golden boy, they were never going to vote for him."

"Did I hear right?" Mrs Weasley said, coming back into the kitchen. "Crouch won the election."

"That's right," Kingsley smiled. "No Malfoy."

"Oh thank goodness," Mrs Weasley sighed, leaning against the counter. "Arthur was dreading the outcome. He'll be so pleased. Can I offer you some breakfast?"

"Just a bit of toast would be lovely thanks Molly," Kingsley said. "Oh and there's a reporter coming through in a minute to talk to Harry. Shouldn't take long though."

"Will there be any pictures?" Mrs Weasley asked, trying to pat her hair with the butter knife.

"I shouldn't think so. All the pictures will probably be of Crouch today."

"Thank goodness," Harry sighed. "I'm tired of my picture being in the press."

"You should consider getting a photographer Harry," Kingsley said seriously.

Harry stared. "Now I know you're joking," he said after a moment, glaring at Kingsley.

Kingsley accepted a piece of toast from Mrs Weasley. "No I mean it," he said. "Just think about it. You singlehandedly swayed this entire election, and influenced the course of Wizarding history. If any situation like this arises again, you should be able to exert your influence. But for that, you need good Public Relations. And that's where decent pictures come in."

"You've got to be kidding me." Harry screwed up his face. "Can you imagine how attention seeking I'd look with a photographer?"

"Get your friends involved too," Kingsley suggested. "Most of them are from prominent wizarding families. Work it."

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Kingsley?" Harry peered suspiciously at the man sitting across from him.

Kingsley sighed, and took a bite of his toast. He chewed and swallowed before he replied. "I've been pulling night shifts all week trying to keep Malfoy out. With the bribes he's been making, its been damn near impossible. Your face in the paper, you words denouncing him, all of that has been our strongest weapon. Without that, we couldn't have done it. It's been a real eye opener to exactly how the public view you. They love you, and they're willing to listen to what you have to say. You know we need to use this, the same way we've used every possible weapon we have in this fight."

"I know," Harry sighed. "I always knew I'd have to be the poster boy for this. I just wish it could wait a few more years."

"It can," Kingsley comforted. "Just get the right steps in place now, then when you need it, it's there. And it might not be a bad idea to buy some shares in the Daily Prophet too. Our relationship with the press is pretty good right now, but you never know how it can change."

"Alright alright," Harry put his hands up. "I'll look into it. Just let me breathe. This is all new, remember? I've been training to fight my whole life, but not like this. Let me get a handle on it first, and then we'll start talking photographers."

"Think about it. That's all I ask," Kingsley said.

Before Harry could reply, the fire flamed green again, and a thin, weedy looking man stepped out. He was holding a large notepad and pen, and looked pathetically eager. Harry took an instant dislike to him, for no reason he could explain.

It didn't take long for Harry to provide the reporter with his speech, which he spoke as though inventing on the spot. The reporter wrote down everything he said, and asked him a few more questions, before leaving. Mrs Weasley sniffed as he left, and wiped the footprints his boots had left on her floor.

"Done," Harry said with relief.

"I'll be off then," Kingsley said, rising to his feet. "Thanks for the toast Molly."

Harry got up and hugged Kingsley tightly. Parting was always hard. "I'll see you at Christmas," he said, his voice muffled against Kingsley's chest.

"You will," Kingsley agreed. "Have a good term Harry. Stay safe, and don't listen to Mad-Eye. No risks."

For a moment, Harry considered telling Kingsley about Dobby's warning. But his guardian had always been protective over him, and while Harry didn't think Kingsley would stop him from returning to Hogwarts, it would just open a whole new line of enquiry that he didn't think was necessary. So he said nothing, and waved as the closest thing he had to a father disappeared into the flames.

From upstairs, there was a clatter. With impeccable timing, the rest of the household had awoke .

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Within minutes of the wake up, the household began to slowly descend into chaos. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.

They were travelling to the station in Mr Weasleys Ford Anglia. Ron had whispered to Harry that the car could fly, although it was illegal to use it that way. Harry was impressed by the liberal extension charms to the inside that allowed them to fit ten people, eight trunks, two owls and a snake inside.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Neville, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She, Hermione and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Hermione looked pained, but said nothing. Sanna was less impressed. She had never liked being in the close proximity to anyone except Harry, and hissed every time anyone jolted her, causing Mr Weasley to anxiously check the car for gas leaks.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all headed into the station.

They went through the barrier in groups. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied Vapour and Sanna) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it. And as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them.

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Vapour, usually well behaved, hooted excitedly in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs Weasley was embracing Ginny tearfully. "Look after your sister," she admonished Ron. "And be good."

"I will mum." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Look," Hermione pointed. Halfway down the platform, the three Malfoys stood in a cluster, their backs to most of the station.

"Blimey, he doesn't look happy, does he?" Ron said, craning his neck to get a good look. Lucius Malfoy seemed to sense their gaze, for he turned around. Catching sight of Harry, the Malfoy elder shot Harry a look so malevolent that he felt himself grow cold. Shaking off the feeling, he looked at Draco. The blonde boy sneered at Harry, before turning back to his mother.

"Ha," Harry said softly. "Daddy isn't minister of Magic after all."

"Thank Merlin," Ron muttered. "Can you imagine?"

Harry was about to turn back to the Weasley's when something else caught his eye. Standing in front of the Malfoys by the edge of the platform, apparently in deep contemplation of the train tracks, was the blonde girl Harry had met in Diagon Alley. Luna, that was her name. As Harry watched, he felt his unease grow. There was something off about her. Something wrong. Once again, she was entirely alone.

Harry was distracted by the whistle blowing. They all piled on the train, and hung out the window, waving to Mr and Mrs Weasley. Goodbyes echoed up and down the platform. They waved until Mrs and Mrs Weasley were specks in the distance, before pulling their arms back into the train.

The five of them returned to the compartment they had claimed.

"Phew," Ron said, slumping in his seat. "Back we go."

Ginny was practically vibrating with excitement. She had bagged a seat next to Hermione, and was already asking her a dozen questions about Hogwarts. Ron rolled his eyes expressively.

"You wouldn't think she'd have five brothers that had already gone to Hogwarts," he muttered. Harry snorted, and quickly muffled it with a cough.

"What house do you think you'll be in Ginny?" Neville asked kindly.

"I don't know," Ginny blushed, much quieter now the attention was on her. When she noticed Harry waiting for her answer, her face could have rivalled the setting sun.

Trying to take the attention away from her, Harry struck up a loud conversation with Ron about quidditch. They were both planning on trying out for the Slytherin team that year, and Ginny even piped up that she was disappointed first years couldn't play. Neville stayed very quiet during the conversation, but Harry noticed he was paying close attention. Hermione didn't even pretend to pay attention. She pulled out her new copy of The Standard book of Spells, Grade Two, and buried her nose in it until lunchtime.

By the time the lunch trolley came around, they were passing rivers and fields outside the window. Feeling peckish, Harry bought enough pasties and cakes for them to share. Although he knew both Neville and Hermione could afford their own lunches, it was easier to be blanket generous, rather than singling anyone out. He knew Ron was sensitive about money, and suspected Ginny would be the same.

After lunch, they changed into their new robes. Ginny gazed in awe at the gleaming magical robes the other four wore. They looked like the Hogwarts uniform, but as though it had been made by the finest tailors in the land, using the most perfect and expensive materials that could be found. It wasn't too far off the mark. Due to its exclusive nature, a metre of Uchawi Pamba sold for hundreds of galleons in Britain. Harry didn't care about the cost though. What he cared about, was that anyone trying to curse his friends would have a surprise when the curse simply bounced off.

As the light began to grow dark outside and the shadows grew long, they had visitors to the compartment. Three of Harry's dubious Slytherin allies decided to pay them a visit. Theodore, Blaise and Daphne arrived at their compartment with little ceremony, and didn't ask to be invited in.

"Nice robes Potter," Theodore sneered. "See you got some for your friends as well."

"That's right," Harry said coolly. Theodore was usually more polite than this. He was also sporting a black eye.

"Ignore him," Daphne sniffed daintily, tossing her blonde hair out of her eyes. "He's only annoyed because Draco punched him."

"Why did Malfoy hit him?" Ron asked, barely keeping the glee from his face.

Daphne shrugged, sitting down in the only available seat, which happened to be next to Neville. In the past, Harry suspected that this proximity to the Slytherin queen would have terrified his friend. He was proud to see Neville merely arch an eyebrow at Daphne.

"Family stuff," Blaise said smoothy.

"Cool," Harry shrugged, slipping back into his Hogwarts persona like a second skin. "Fancy a chocolate frog?"

Blaise eyed Harry suspiciously, before deciding that Harry probably hadn't poisoned it. He took a bite, chewed consideringly, and swallowed. When he didn't keel over and die, Daphne and Theodore also helped themselves.

"Who's the baby ginger?" Theodor asked after a moment, leering at Ginny.

"That's my sister!" Ron scowled. Harry put a hand on his arm.

"That's Ginny," he confirmed casually. "And I suspect if you call her baby ginger again, you'll find her using certain parts of your anatomy as earrings."

Ginny giggled, as Theodore blanched. Blaise glared at his friend. "Please forgive Theo," he said calmly. "I'm afraid he has forgotten his manners."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Harry asked the question he was really eager to hear.

"So I guess Draco's sulking about the election?" Harry asked hopefully.

Theodore snorted. "Think he's got more on his mind than that," the stringy boy said in an undertone.

Harry pricked up his ears. "Like what?"

"Like his legacy," Theodore said cryptically. "And his inheritance."

Harry frowned. Theodore was being deliberately difficult. He looked at Blaise, and raised an eyebrow.

"Malfoy's mother is pregnant," Blaise said, a little smile twisting his lips. "The Malfoy's have another child on the way."

Harry and Neville both gasped in shock, staring at Blaise in disbelief.

"No," Harry denied, shaking his head. "That's not possible."

"It is," Theodore said, warming to the subject. "It certainly is."

Hermione, Ron and Ginny looked confused.

"Sorry," Hermione said, giving them all odd looks. "But why is it impossible?"

The three Slytherins exchanged glances, as if to say, _oh listen to the muggleborn._ Harry glared at them.

"It's Malfoy tradition," Harry explained. "For centuries, the Malfoys have only ever had a single son. No girls, and never more than one child. Just like the Black's name all their children after constellations, the Malfoy's only ever have a single heir."

"That's impossible," Hermione denied. "They can't help it if they have a girl. And what if they have a multiple pregnancy?"

"It's never happened," Blaise said, looking intently at Hermione. "We use this thing called magic."

Hermione shot Blaise a filthy look, and Harry quickly intervened. "Alright," he said hastily. "Alright. So Narcissa is pregnant, and Draco is panicking in case they have a boy to steal his inheritance?"

"Exactly."

"How did she get pregnant anyway? I thought the Malfoy women had to take a potion after their first child so they can't have any more."

"I don't think Draco knows the details," Daphne said delicately. "But I believe Lucius is claiming foul play. Apparently he was slipped a lust potion, that negated the effects of any contraception."

At this, all of the boys in the compartment shuddered. Even Hermione and Ginny looked faintly ill. Harry's head was spinning. He had a vague sense that something had gone horribly wrong. And then he remembered.

 _Fred looked to the right and left, and quickly pushed Harry's cloak into his hands. "Been meaning to get this back to you."_

 _Harry sighed deeply. "What did you do?"_

 _"Well," George smirked. "Let's just say that the Lady Malfoy might be getting a surprise sometime soon."_

 _"What did you put in the products," Harry said warily._

 _"Lust potion. Malfoy's mum won't know what hit her when Malfoy senior gets home."_

 _Ron snorted violently, and Harry and Neville burst out laughing. Hermione's face had gone pink. "Is that legal?!" She squeaked._

 _"Only if you don't tell," George winked._

"Oh Merlin," Harry said out loud.

"What this it Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry realised the whole compartment was staring at him.

"Nothing," Harry said, thinking very fast. "Nothing. Bad news. Poor Malfoys."

Lucius Malfoy was already angry because of the election. What Fred and George had done was technically illegal. Harry didn't even want to imagine what his retribution would be to the twins. Harry resolved there and then to never tell anyone what he knew, because the consequences could be far reaching. Terrifyingly far reaching.

The Slytherins left soon after, claiming they needed to get changed into their school robes. Harry stared out of the window as the darkness grew complete, and only the occasional flash of light showed where a house might be.

With a creak and a groan, the train began to slow, until they pulled into Hogsmeade station and came to a stop. Helping Ginny and Hermione drag their heavy trunks, the five of them piled onto the platform. Ginny was directed towards Hagrid, who gave them all a friendly smile and a nod. Then they waved goodbye to Ginny, and headed for the Thestral drawn carriages.

Harry gave his thestral a pat on the neck as they drew level. He had a deep fondness for Thestrals after all the help they had given him in rescuing Sirius the previous year. Ron and Hermione looked at him strangely, but didn't question why he was patting empty air. They climbed into!the carriages, man's began the journey to the castle

As they rounded a corner, the massive bulk of Hogwarts suddenly loomed out of the darkness like a fairytale castle. Every window was lit up with lights, from the ground floor to the highest tower. Harry could already imagine his comfortable bed in the Slytherin dormitory. As they drew closer to the castle, Harry imagined Ginny sailing in a boat across the lake, seeing Hogwarts for the first time, and he smiled at the thought. Hogwarts was a truly beautiful place.

It was good to be home.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **\- Cas**


	24. Chapter 24

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Six**

\\\/

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows.

Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. As the four of them went to their separate tables, Harry noticed people staring and whispering, pointing at their robes. Ron seemed to have noticed too; his walk become more of a strut, and he puffed his chest out.

Harry scanned the staff table as they sat down. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master. As though sensing Harry's eye falling upon him, Snape looked up and stared directly at Harry. He gave a short nod. Harry nodded in return, feeling oddly pleased that the unusual alliance he had accidentally entered into with the potions master the previous term seemed to have held strong over the summer.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Harry guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought.

Finally, Harry found who he was looking for. Remus sat at the very end of the staff table, in conversation with Hagrid. He looked better than he had the previous winter, and had bought himself new robes, with what Harry assumed was the money he had earned from tutoring them. Harry wondered if Sirius had made good on his idea of returning to Britain, and resolved to ask Remus later.

"Oh hurry up, " Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I'm starving." The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. Harry stared, and he wasn't the only one. One of the first years wasn't a first year at all.

There was a boy standing amongst the eleven year olds who towered over them. He had a pinched white face, and long dark hair. There was something frozen about his features, Harry thought. The other first years seemed to agree, as they edged nervously away from him.

"He can't be a first year," someone hissed from down the table. They were shushed, as Professor McGonagall returned.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song

 _Oh it was many years ago,_

 _When I was newly made,_

 _A fine hat to be sure, and wrought_

 _By a master of his trade_

 _When I was brought to Hogwarts School_

 _Upon Godric's golden head_

 _To do the impossible task, to sort!_

 _Or so the founders said_

 _And so each student that enters here,_

 _Must sit beneath my brim,_

 _Slytherin wished for only pureblood wizards,_

 _Of great cunning, just like him._

 _And only those of sharpest mind,_

 _Were taught by Ravenclaw,_

 _While the bravest and the boldest,_

 _Went to daring Gryffindor._

 _Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

 _And taught them all she knew,_

 _So try me out, you know for sure_

 _I'll find the place for you!_

That hat bowed, as the hall burst into applause. Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

"Harper Adams"

A small blonde boy stumbled towards the stool, and was shortly sorted into Slytherin. Harry and Ron applauded dutifully. Harry wasn't paying much attention though, as he was still trying to catch Remus' eye, without any luck.

Several names later, whispering broke out over the hall. The tall, dark haired boy was next in line.

"Stefan Skorik," Professor McGonagall called. "A transfer student from Durmstrang, Stefan will be entering second year."

A storm of whispering broke out at that. None of them could remember having a transfer student before. The boy stepped forward, and sat gingerly on the stool. His face no longer looked frozen; he looked very, very nervous. The hat didn't take long to decide. After a moment, it shouted:

"SLYTHERIN."

Stefan Skorik walked quickly over to the Slytherin table, and took the nearest seat, which happened to be next to Draco Malfoy. There was a certain downcast look to Draco, Harry thought. He wasn't speaking much, and had a foul expression on his face. Harry couldn't blame him, after the twin blow of his father's election loss and his mother's pregnancy. However, Draco perked up when the Durmstrang transfer student sat next to him, and the blonde boy even engaged him in conversation.

Harry was so busy trying to listen in on Draco's conversation that he almost missed Ginny's name being called. Ron sat up straighter as his sister walked towards the stool, a determined look on her face. Professor McGonagall handed her the sorting hat, and Ginny slipped it over her head, tilting it so her face was hidden.

Ron's fingers were clenched into fists on the table, and he was staring intently at Ginny. "Come in," he muttered.

"Come on where?" Harry asked, amused. " Gryffindor or Slytherin?"

"I don't actually know," Ron admitted sheepishly, unclenching his fists. "She probably wants Ravenclaw with Hermione, but I can't see it happening."

Ron was proven correct a moment later, when the hat shouted: "SLYTHERIN!"

Ginny pulled the hat from her head, an unmistakably pleased expression on her face. There were groans from the Gryffindor table, and a twin voice was heard to say clearly, "not again!"

Ginny sat down between Ron and Daphne Greengrass, blushing furiously as everyone stared at her. "Good job Gin," Ron said, patting her on the shoulder.

"Welcome to Slytherin, baby ginger," Blaise said from across the table, without malice, his eyes dancing. "Good job on breaking the mould your brother cracked."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked Harry in an undertone.

Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment the headmaster stood up to speak, and he broke off.

Professor Dumbledore, though very old, always gave an impression of great energy. He had several feet of long silver hair and beard, half-moon spectacles, and an extremely crooked nose. Harry couldn't help but remember the conversation they had at the end of the previous year, and wondered whether Dumbledore also thought of it often.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Another year of learning awaits you! Now before we begin the delicious feast,I would like to introduce you to our new member of staff. Please welcome Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The hall applauded politely, except for the four who knew Remus. They clapped hard, and Remus shot a smile in Harry's direction.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring along the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but Harry, who had become accustomed to thinking of the potions master in a more positive light, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. it was beyond anger: it was loathing.

"I guess Remus was telling the truth. Snape never got over the school stuff," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harry, suddenly ravenous, helped himself to everything he could reach and began to eat.

"I thought it was mostly your dad and Sirius," Ron commented to Harry, slightly apologetically, bits of potato flying out of his mouth.

"Remus said he just didn't intervene. I guess to Snape that's just as bad," Harry reasoned, dodging the potato.

Harry felt a tightening around his wrist, and looked down to see the tip of a forked tongue poking out of his sleeve. He put his arm under the table quickly, trying to encourage Sanna to stay hidden, but Harry felt her begin to slide over his wrist.

" _Not now,"_ he hissed, bringing his sleeve up to his mouth and hissing as softly as he could. Nobody was paying him attention; Ron was talking to Ginny, and the other second years were trying to listen in on Draco's conversation with the transfer student.

" _Bored._ Sanna sulked. " _Hungry."_

" _Later."_

Sanna retreated, and Harry made sure to slip several slices of roast beef in a napkin into his pocket. It wasn't the best food for Sanna, but Harry didn't want the snake vanishing to hunt in the castle the first night. Hogwarts could be a dangerous place to a little snake, and Harry wanted to impress that upon her before letting her loose. Harry looked up to find Daphne Greengrass staring intently at him, and frowned. The blonde girl often seemed to be watching at the most inconvenient of times. Daphne looked away, and engaged Ginny in conversation.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harry and Ron, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Remus. They knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. Remus had struggled for years to find a job, despite being a werewolf, and being offered a position at Hogwarts was a new lease of life.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they got their chance.

"It's good to see you Remus," Harry smiled as they reached the teachers table.

"Thanks Harry, _we_ had a good trip back but it's nice to start work," Remus said, with a significant look. The look wasn't needed. Harry had already picked up on the word _'we',_ and the intended message: Sirius was back in Britain.

After a few more sentence's, Professor McGonagall shooed them away. Ron went to find Ginny, but she was already in the company of Daphne Greengrass. They joined the students streaming out of the double doors, and wandered slowly down to the Slytherin common room, where the prefect gave them the new terms password.

Through the narrow tunnel and across the common room, the girls and boys divided toward their separate staircases. Harry descended the stair with no thought in his head except how glad he was to be back. They reached their familiar, greenish dormitory with its four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.

There was an extra bed, Harry noticed, and realised it had to belong to the transfer student. But the curtains were already firmly drawn, and no sound came from its occupant

" _Food?"_ Sanna asked hopefully, poking her head out of Harry's sleeve and slithering onto his pillow as he pulled his robes off.

" _Here."_ Harry wearily handed over the beef slices. Sanna wrinkled her nose before digging her fangs in, and it was clear what she thought of his poor offering. When she had gorged herself, Sana returned to her usual position on Harry's wrist, and wrapped herself firmly around, before going to sleep.

\\\/

When Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be deep in discussion with Stefan Skorik. The dark haired boy was listening to Draco, an uncomfortable expression on his face. In unspoken agreement, Harry and Ron sat as close as they unobtrusively could.

"- and I think Durmstrang takes a much more sensible angle on the dark arts," Draco was saying, as he poured himself a cup of tea. "I don't understand why anyone would rather come here."

"I had no choice," Stefan said. His voice was quiet and nervous. "My family insisted. The signs foretold the coming of a great threat to our world. A great evil. The signs suggested that if I was sent here, something would change. They didn't know what, but it changed things."

"Signs?" Draco frowned.

"My grandfather is a centaur," Stefan said softly. "Some members of my family are gifted. They are rarely wrong."

Draco recoiled, disgust on his face. "You grandfather was a _centaur?_ Merlin, that's revolting."

Stefan's eyes flashed dangerously, but he shrugged and said nothing, bowing his head with a shrug. After a moment, Draco moved on to ask Stefan about politics in Eastern Europe, and Harry and Ron stopped paying attention.

"Signs eh?" Ron said to Harry, stretching across the table to retrieve the marmalade.

"I know," Harry said distractedly. "Interesting."

Ginny arrived at breakfast with Daphne Greengrass, both of them talking nonstop. Hermione popped over briefly to say good morning to all of them, and wish Ginny good luck on her first day of classes. Ginny smiled shyly, looking nervous and excited. Hermione was about to leave, when she caught sight of Stefan Skorik. A blush stained her cheeks, and she ducked her head and hurried away.

Harry had no time to dwell on this; Professor Snape was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Harry took his and saw that they had double Herbology with the Gryffindors first.

Harry, Ron, and Neville left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Ron, and Neville had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn. Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes.

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout cheerfully.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before — greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. They entered, and lined up along the tables.

The lessons turned out to be on mandrakes, which might have been interesting if they had been able to talk during it. However the enormous earmuffs they had to wear to protect them from the screams of the baby mandrakes they were re-potting made conversation impossible, and so they worked in silence, hefting ugly plant babies into new pots.

Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

Neville was quite excited by the lesson. As they walked back up to try castle, hot, dirty and aching, he talked on and on about the various solutions they could make with mature mandrakes. Harry was amused to see Neville seemed to have been taking his potion's lessons with Hermione very seriously.

" - and I just wish we weren't going to have to wait until the end of the year to try anything," Neville said sadly.

"Maybe we don't have to," Harry said thoughtfully as they climbed the steps to the entrance hall. "You saw Nicholas's garden at Christmas right? I'm almost certain he has some mature mandrakes. He might send us some to experiment with. I'll write and ask."

The look on Neville's face was pure bliss.

They said goodbye to Neville and headed off to Transfiguration next. They were supposed to be turning beetles into buttons. Harry managed a plain button right away, and amused himself for the rest of the session by transfiguring the buttons into more and more elaborate designs. He experimented, swapping his wands, and then doing the spell wandlessly. They were sitting at the back of the class so he didn't have to worry about people noticing.

Ron kept gasping in amazement. Having a new wand changed everything for Ron. This was the first time he had used it, and his spells were working properly for the first time ever. Harry hoped Neville was having a similar experience. It wasn't long before they had a pile of buttons between them.

When the bell went for lunch Harry scooped the buttons into his pocket to feed to Vapour later when they became beetles again.

Neville and Hermione joined them at the Slytherin table. Since the previous year, nobody had objected to the four of them sitting at whatever house table they chose, except for at events like the start of term feast. Neville couldn't sit still. He kept twisting his wand around and around in his fingers, and making the salt and pepper change colour.

"New wand work, Nev?" Harry asked fondly.

"It's amazing," Neville breathed. "I can make spells _work._ Things are actually working!"

Neville's face was shining with excitement, almost to the point of tears. Harry's heart went out to the boy who had completed first year with a wand that was totally wrong for him, and consequently believed he was stupid as a result. Neville couldn't stop casting spells, his face lighting up every time he had a successful result. The Slytherins were watching with narrowed eyes, but most of them had been on the receiving end of Harry's wand at one point or another, and knew better than to antagonise him or his friends.

"What have we got next?" Harry asked, looking past Ron to where Hermione sat with Ginny and Daphne.

"Oh give me a minute," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing. Harry noticed all three girls looked slightly giggly, which was unusual for Daphne. Harry narrowed his eyes at the blonde, but she merely raised a disdainful eyebrow, and turned away.

"We've got Defense Against the Dark Arts together this afternoon," Hermione said, folding up her timetable.

"I wish I was with you," Neville said wistfully.

"Why?" Ron asked. "You know Remus. You don't need to be concerned."

"Defense is what we do together though," Neville said, looking morose. Harry patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm sure we'll be training together with Remus, this is only lessons," he reminded Neville.

Harry, Ron and Neville finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione and Ginny came with them, as did Daphne, to Harry's surprise. The blonde girl didn't usually spend any time with them. The three girls sat down on a stone step and continued whatever conversation they had been involved in during the meal.

Harry, Neville and Ron stood talking about Defense for several minutes before Harry became aware that he was being closely watched. Looking up, he saw a very small, mousy-haired boy he'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm — I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think — would it be all right if— can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline)

"and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" — he looked imploringly at Harry — "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it."

Harry stared at Colin for a long moment, unsure whether or not the boy was joking. But Colin's face was painfully eager, and Harry grimaced.

"Colin that's a bit strange," Harry said as gently as he could. "I'm just a student like you. Have you taken pictures of any other students?"

"Only my friends," Colin admitted.

"Then maybe when you get those pictures developed, you could show me? And then we could talk about taking some if you still want them. Maybe with other students too. There's nothing special about meeting me after all."

"You'd like to see my pictures?" Colin said breathlessly, gazing at Harry with an expression uncomfortably similar to the one Dobby had worn.

"Why not?" Harry said. Kingsley's advice on getting a photographer was ringing in his head, and it seemed like a strange coincidence that a student should show up taking pictures only the day after their conversation. Harry made a note to find out whether Colin was any good at taking photographs before committing himself.

"Oh wow Harry, I'll get them developed to show you, I can't wait!"

With that, the eager little Gryffindor dashed off, camera clutched in his hands still. Harry let out a breath, and stood back with his friends. Ron and Neville were laughing so hard they could hardly stand up the moment Colin was out of earshot. Harry glared at them, as they sniggered at his face.

"Can I have a signed picture, Harry?" Neville asked with a wink. Harry threw a light punch at Neville shoulder, and was surprised when Neville blocked the hit with ease.

"I'll make you stand in every picture," Harry groused.

They continued bickering as they went back inside, only stopping when they parted ways with Neville to head towards the Defense Classroom. Hermione caught up with them a few seconds later, pulling her bag on her back.

"Sorry," she panted. "Daphne was telling Ginny and I about a new issue of Witch Weekly that's coming out soon that has a whole section on defensive charms for witches."

"Sounds groundbreaking," Harry said, poking Hermione gently on the shoulder.

Hermione glared. "You might laugh, but these charms have really intricate magic woven into that, that can be adopted for a whole array of -"

"Never mind," Harry said hastily. "Come on, before we're late."

Remus wasn't there when they arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Remus smiled around the whole class, lingering on the three that he had met before, as he placed his briefcase on the teacher's desk.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class before.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, and down the main stairs. They realised they were heading towards the grounds, and a buzz of interest arose. The afternoon had become clear and sunny, and there was still a leftover feel of summer in the air.

"Right," Remus shouted, as the class huddled in front of him on the grassy area by the lake. "I'd like you to spread out please, and find a partner."

The class shuffled for a moment, and then spread out. Harry partnered with Ron, while Hermione seemed happy to be with Padma Patil, another Ravenclaw.

"Good," said Remus. "Have any of you ever heard of a disarming charm?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione hung back, feeling it would be churlish to answer when Remus himself had taught them almost a year ago. Hermione's partner Padma put her hand up after a moment, and answered correctly.

"Its a spell that disarms your opponent of their wand."

"Correct," Remus smiled. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Can anyone else tell me the incantation?"

When no-one else answered, Hermione raised her hand. "Expelliarmus."

"Very good. Five more points to Ravenclaw. Yes, as Miss Patil and Miss Granger have told us, the disarming charm is used to take your opponents wand..."

Remus really was a was a very good teacher, Harry thought. He went on to explain clearly and concisely exactly what the disarming charm did, and how it managed it. Then he had them practice in their pairs. It was basic ducking and dodging that they'd covered at Christmas, but it was a chance to get their skills up to par again. Remus strolled around the class, correcting their spellwork and suggesting improvement.

"Good," Remus said, clapping his hands together as they came to the end of the lesson. They were hot and sweaty from all the activity, and came to a halt, panting.

"That was a good start," Remus continued. "For homework, an essay please on the positives and negatives of physical spell avoidance, as opposed to magical."

Talking excitedly, the class broke up and began to head back towards the castle. Harry though, moved over to talk to Remus. Hermione and Ron hung back with him, all three of them casting glances at their classmates until they were sure they were out of earshot. Remus pretended to be fiddling with his wand, and only looked up once they were alone.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?" Remus said in a low voice.

They wandered towards the edge of the forbidden forest. From within its depths, Harry saw a puff of smoke rise into the air, and wondered if Norbert was at large, chasing down birds from the trees. As they skirted Hagrids pumpkin patch, Remus began to speak quietly.

"I know what you want to ask," Remus said. "Sirius returned to Britain with me. I couldn't dissuade him: he insisted."

"Where is he?" Harry asked, glancing at Hagrid's hut, which seemed to be empty.

"Hogsmeade. There's a cave where we used to go as students...he's mostly spending time in dog form."

"How is he getting food?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"I'm sending it to him, don't worry Hermione," Remus smiled. "I'd hardly let him starve. "

"Still," Harry said. "It's not safe for him to be here. Not when the whole ministry wants him kissed."

Remus sighed. "I tried to tell him Harry. He wouldn't listen. Sirius has always been stubborn, and nothing I say makes a difference. It never has."

Harry frowned at his feet as they walked past the lake. The idea of his godfather returning to danger was not one he entertained lightly, but he didn't have a choice.

"Are we going to start training with you soon?" Ron asked after a moment.

"Yes, that's the plan," Remus agreed. "Did Harry say the four of you do exercises in the morning?"

"Only jogging," Harry shrugged. "To keep fit. And every Friday afternoon last year we met to practice spells, but we don't have that afternoon timetabled off this year."

"Is the morning a good time for you?" Remus pressed.

"Yes, we can do that," Harry said. Ron and Hermione groaned, but didn't protest.

"Good," said Remus. "If you're amenable then, to switching your exercise over to training with me for an hour before breakfast, then we should be fine. Shall I meet you outside the castle every morning at six?"

The three of them agreed, Ron more grudgingly than Harry or Hermione, and they began to make their way back up to the castle. As they walked, a thought occurred to Harry.

"You know Crouch became minister?" Harry asked.

"Yes?" Remus answered.

"Does that mean anything major changes in the ministry?"

"Not really Harry,". Remus said as they came to the steps in front of the entrance hall. "Crouch will choose his own staff, but apart from that, most policies will stay the same."

"No luck on the werewolf front then?" Harry said, disappointed.

"Unfortunately not," Remus replied. "The kind of work it would take to change the ministry stance on werewolves is still many years away."

"It's not fair," Harry muttered.

"I know," Remus said sadly. "Not just for me, but for the new boy and all of our kind."

It took Harry a moment to realise what Remus had said. He paused in the doorway to the great hall. Ron and Hermione came to a halt, looking confused. "What do you mean the new boy?" Harry asked, wondering if he had heard right.

Remus looked stricken. "I spoke out of turn," he said. "It wasn't my place to say. It's too hard to forget that I'm your teacher now, and subject to the rules of staff."

"Tell me," Harry insisted.

Remus sighed. "Not a word."

"I promise," Harry said. Ron and Hermione agreed, clearly curious.

"The new Slytherin," Remus said softly. "He's a werewolf. Nobody is supposed to know. He's just like I was."

Hermione gasped, and Ron looked thunderstruck. Harry was surprised too. The new boy had seemed strange, but Harry hadn't guessed that he was a werewolf. Remembering the conversation he had overheard between Stefan Skorik and Malfoy earlier, Harry recounted it to Remus.

"The signs said he needed to be here?" Remus frowned. "That _is_ strange. And his grandfather was a centaur, you say? Unusual. I'll have to ask what Albus has to say about him."

The four of them looked up at the sound of voices. A group of students were heading towards them. They exchanged a look, and quickly parted ways. Remus headed up the stairs, while Harry, Ron and Hermione went towards the entrance hall. After a moment, Ron said in a voice that was entirely too casual to be serious.

"His grandfather was a centaur. I wonder how that _worked."_

"What do you mean Ron?" Hermione asked blankly, as Harry sniggered.

"You know. Centaurs are only human on the top half."

"So?" Hermione wasn't getting it. Harry was struggling to keep his laughter in.

"Well imagine his grandmother, and this centaur getting together to make -"

"Oh no, Ron, stop it," Hermione squealed, her face scrunching up. "I absolutely could have lived without that mental image."

Harry laughed heartily as two of his best friends continued bickering as they entered the lunch hall. No doubt the new student wouldn't appreciate the aspersions on his family, but listening to Ron and Hermione debating whether or not lying with a half human equalled bestiality was the most fun he'd had all day.

"I mean," Ron said loudly. "Have you seen the _size_ of a horse's...thing..."

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **\- Cas**


	25. Chapter 25

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Seven**

 **\\\/**

Training with Remus began the very next morning. Harry shook Ron awake, they dressed in the dark and then crept through the silent dormitory, and up the stairs. The common room was eerie in the green light of the very early morning, and the fires had burnt down to just the embers overnight. It was still, quiet and empty. _Well_ , Harry amended, _almost empty._ There was a figure huddled in a chair at one end of the room.

Ron jumped violently when he noticed the person. "Wha..."

"I'm sorry," said a heavily accented voice. It was the new student, Stefan Skorik. He looked terrible, Harry thought. His face was paler than ever, and there were deep circles underneath his eyes. The boy seemed to have been gazing into the flames, and Harry wondered how long he had been there.

Ron was less subtle. "Have you been there all night?"

Stefan rose to his feet, pulling his cloak around him. He seemed to be wearing nothing but pajamas underneath it. Harry heard a faint _meow,_ and looked down to see a black cat twining itself between Stefan's legs. The boy leaned down to stroke the cat, while keeping wary eyes fixed on Harry and Ron. "Not all night," Stefan said. "Only perhaps an hour. I am still struggling with the time difference between our countries."

Harry didn't believe him. Perhaps it was the circles under his eyes, or the way he wouldn't directly meet Harry's gaze, but Harry would have bet the contents of his Gringotts vault that Stefan had been there for much longer than an hour. He had bare feet, and something about it made him seem very vulnerable.

"How are you finding Hogwarts?" Harry asked, taking a step towards Stefan.

"Oh. Yes. Fine." Stefan said nervously, picking the cat up and hugging it to his chest. "I should go now. Get...get ready."

Without looking at them again, Stefan hurried away, his cat in his arms. His cloak flapped around his ankles until he reached the stairs and descended out of view. Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and exited Slytherin together.

"Mental," Ron commented once they were out in the corridor, shaking his head. "Mental, I tell you."

"He seemed very scared of us," Harry said thoughtfully. "I hope Malfoy hasn't been filling his head with nonsense."

They met Neville and Hermione in the entrance hall. Hermione was yawning deeply, but Neville looked bright and alert. They had noticed over the summer that Neville had shown a tendency to be a morning person, much to Ron's disgust. While the rest of them were rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, Neville always seemed wide awake as soon as the sun rose.

"Shall we go?" Harry asked, leading the way out onto the grounds.

It was another beautiful, cold September morning. The grounds were shrouded in thick mist, and the sun was rising above the forbidden forest. They could see the lake, and the sunlight glimmered on the little ripples in the water. The bottom of their robes quickly became damp as they walked across the grass, shivering slightly in the chill. Remus was waiting for them by the forest, dressed in loose, dark muggle clothing. Like Neville, he looked wide awake.

"Good morning!" Remus hailed them as they came closer. "How are my trainee's this morning?"

Remus received a few groans in response, and a sleepy "hello," from Hermione. They formed a semicircle around Remus.

"Well this won't do," Remus said, rubbing his hands together. The werewolf looked strangely excited, and his eyes were dancing. "Right! This is how it's going to be. Over Christmas we had a chance to get a little bit of work done, and I'm sure you've been working on your spells since. But now I'm here, we can really get involved in this training business. Kingsley told me you need training for combat?"

"That's right," Harry said.

"Good. Since we only have an hour every morning, we're going to divide it up. Ten minutes warm up, then twenty five minutes physical training, following by twenty five minutes on wand work. It's going to be intensive training, and we don't have a minute to waste. Understood?"

"Yes Remus," the four chorused.

Then Harry asked; "what are we doing for our warm up?"

Harry swore Remus's eyes lit up with glee. "I'm glad you asked," Remus said. "Follow me."

They followed the man down through the grounds, until they reached the edge of the lake. Remus looked at them expectantly, and they stared back without comprehending. The mist was still rolling across the water, which was a deep blue under the morning sky.

"Well, get in," Remus said, when it became clear they had no idea what they were there for.

"Get...in?" Harry asked slowly, thinking he hadn't heard the man correctly.

"Yes! The lake. You need to wake up. In!"

The four of them looked at each other. Ron made a face as though to suggest that Remus had lost his mind. "There's a giant squid in there!" Hermione squeaked. "You can't be serious!"

"It must be freezing," Harry said.

"We've got nothing to swim in anyway!" Ron whimpered.

Remus scowled at them all. "I've been told I need to train you," the older man said, fixing them with an expression that Harry was more accustomed to receiving from Mad-Eye Moody. "And I've been told that you'll be going up against death eaters, in all likeliness. So tell me why you think I should go easy on you? I saw what those monsters did to my friends in the last war, friends who, might I added, had received auror training. If you're to stand any kind of chance, you need to be ready for the hardest things they can throw at you, and I assure you, it'll be worse than a little bit of cold water."

Remus finished his speech, his chest heaving. Harry stared at him. This was a side of Remus he had never seen before. The usually affable man had turned into a hard-faced trainer.

"Alright," Neville said, breaking the silence. They turned to see Neville removing his robes. Underneath he was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, and his skin was pale and slightly loose from the weight he had lost over the summer.

"Neville!" Hermione squeaked, hiding her face in her hands.

"Come _on_ ," Neville said. Remus's speech seemed to have deeply affected Neville. He had the same blazing look in his eyes he had worn when he had sworn to Harry that he would kill Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry took a deep breath, and let his robes drop. He too, was wearing only underwear. Sanna, who was wrapped around his wrist sleeping, opened her eyes with a furious hiss.

" _Cold."_

 _"Sssorry,"_ Harry apologised, unwinding the snake from his wrist.

" _Ssstupid human. What are you doing?"_

 _"Ssswimming,"_ Harry said reluctantly.

" _Foolisssh human,"_ Sanna sniffed crossly, as Harry put her down in his pile of robes. " _Next time leave me in bed."_

 _"Yesss Sssanna,"_ Harry said, amused.

" _I'm going hunting,"_ Sanna said with an irritated hiss, sliding her sinuous form over the dark folds of Harry's robes and into the grass. " _Sssee you later, foolisssh human."_

 _"Don't get lossst."_

Ron took a look at Harry and Neville and sighed heavily. "Bloody Gryffindors," Ron said to Neville, shaking his head as he too pulled his robes off. Then all three of them turned to Hermione. Hermione was still clutching her robes to her, looking wide-eyed.

"It's different for me!" Hermione protested. "I'm a girl!"

"We hadn't noticed," Ron said wryly, through chattering teeth. "Hurry up, its freezing."

"Hermione," Remus said, more gently. "You are under no obligation to be here. You can leave now if you want to. But if you stay, you should know that being a girl won't change your training. You need to swim with the boys, run with the boys, wrestle with the boys and take a hit like the boys. Because the death eaters won't care what gender you are when they try to kill you. And that needs to start here and now. When you train with me, gender doesn't exist. Understood? It's your choice."

Hermione nodded immediately, and Harry stifled a laugh. He knew Hermione would have been horrified to miss the chance to train with Remus. The three boys looked away, as Hermione pulled her robes off. She was wearing underwear and a T-shirt, and Ron was the first to burst out laughing.

"After all that Hermione, I thought you were going to be naked or something. You're wearing more than us!"

Hermione shot Ron dark glare. Now she had committed herself, she seemed hell bent on seeing it through. "Well come on then,' Hermione said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

As the three boys stared, Hermione slipped out of her shoes and socks, and took the two steps towards the lake. Taking a deep breath, she dived neatly in with a splash and a scream. Her wet head bobbed out of the water a moment later, and she pushed the hair out of her eyes.

"Atta girl! That's more like it!" Remus shouted.

"What are you waiting for?" Hermione shrieked. The boys exchanged glances, and ran quickly down to the water, not to be outdone by a girl in pink knickers. It was like jumping into the arctic sea. The water was freezing, and hit them like concrete. Harry felt like a metal band was wrapped round his chest, squeezing tightly, and he gasped for air as he came up.

"Good!" Remus roared at them. "You wasted time talking, so there's only six minutes left! Swim out until I blow the whistle, and then head back! Ready? Go!"

The four of them exchanged incredulous glances, and, panting, set out towards the centre of the lake. Hermione turned out to be quite a good swimmer; she shot ahead in a confident front crawl. Neville was doing a steady breaststroke, and poor Ron was doing an awkward kind of doggy paddle, with lots of arm flapping and splashing. As they kept moving, the blood started flowing and Harry felt himself grow warmer. Distantly, they heard a whistle blow.

Turning around, the four of them headed back towards the shore. Ron was breathing hard, but Neville seemed quite unconcerned as he kept pace. Hermione had the furthest to go, as she had swum the furthest out, but she still caught up to them before they reached the edge of the water.

"Excellent!" Remus said, stretching out a hand and pulling them out one by one. "Really good work. Where did you learn to swim Hermione?"

"I took lessons as a child," Hermione said, her teeth chattering violently as she left the water. "Most muggles do."

"Ron, we'll work on your stroke," Remus promised. Then the werewolf flicked his wand at the four of them, and instantly they were bone dry, their clothes warm as though they had been in front of a fire. They pulled on their robes which had been left in little heaps, and Harry marvelled at how they could go from so cold to so warm in such a short space of time. As they lined up in front of Remus again, Harry concluded that the werewolf might actually know what he was talking about. His blood seemed to be singing, and his head felt clear. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive.

"Alright," Remus said. "Now you're all nice and warmed up, we've got twenty five minutes for physical. I fully expect Harry and Hermione to know this, but tell me Ron and Neville. Have either of you ever heard of a press up?"

Their physical training was as intense as Remus had promised it would be. Press ups were followed with sit ups, and then a short sprint through the grounds. With their final five minutes, Remus paired off Harry and Neville, Ron and Hermione, and taught them basic blocking and dodging manoeuvres. When they came to a panting halt in front of Remus, the werewolf glanced at his wristwatch.

"Alright," he conceded. "Physical training time is up. Please take your wands out. We're going to work on a variation of the shield charm that I taught you over the summer. This variation will allow you to block physical objects, which could be magical or real."

Hermione raised her hand. "What do you mean magical or real?"

"Well for example, I could throw that stone at you," Remus said. "And this shield would block it, where a simple _protego_ would only block a spell. However I could also conjure up a stone and send it towards you, and the shield would stop the magical stone as easily as the real one. Does that make sense?"

Hermione nodded, and they all pulled out their wands and prepared to learn the incantation. Remus conjured up a handful of light pebbles that wouldn't hurt them if they hit, and they took turned casting. Remus tossed the pebble towards the shield to see if they could block it. By the end of the session, Harry had managed to block three times using his new wand, although he suspected if he used his Ugandan wand, he would be able to do more than that. Hermione had managed to block the pebble once, but Ron and Neville had only slowed it in its path.

Remus reassured them that he hadn't expected anything more for their first session, and he was very pleased with how they had done. When the hour was up, they wandered back to the castle, discussing their magical strengths and weaknesses to work on, until they reached the entrance hall.

"Very good work today," Remus praised. "You should all be pleased with yourself. We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow."

They all thanked Remus, before departing to get a much needed shower. Ron and Harry headed downstairs to Slytherin, after the hour of intensive training, finding it hard to believe that the rest of the school was still asleep.

"Why is everyone that trains you completely mental Harry?" Ron asked weakly, when they reached the showers at last.

"Remus really knows his stuff though," Harry said, stripping off and reaching for a towel. "I don't know about you, but I couldn't believe how much we fit into an hour."

"I'll give you that," Ron said grudgingly. "I can't believe we've got to swim in the lake everyday though."

\\\/

By the end of the first week, swimming in the lake as the sun came up had actually begun to feel like a fun, refreshing way to wake themselves up. There was something incredibly beautiful about the way the sun reflected off the ripples in the water, casting an orange glow over everything, with the huge, silent castle behind them. Hermione commented that her parents would never believe it was possible to swim in such a pretty place, and Ron muttered that he like the castle grounds much better when they were empty.

Their training stayed on a similar level, and by the Friday, they had all manage to successfully repel a pebble with their shields. Remus was very pleased with their progress, and made sure to try and teach them different things to their class lessons, otherwise there was little point in them covering the same thing twice, he explained.

After lunch on Friday though, something happened to drive all thoughts of defensive training out of Ron and Harry's heads. They were heading up to a herbology lesson, after picking up their books from the dormitory, discussing the essay that was due that period on the maturation of the mandrake plants.

Not until they were halfway across the common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people. A large sign had been affixed to the Slytherin noticeboard; so large it covered everything else on it - the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the chess team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters.

QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS WILL TAKE PLACE ON SATURDAY THE 13TH OF SEPTEMBER. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR NAMES WITH MARCUS FLINT IF YOU WISH TO BE CONSIDERED.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed as they saw the notice. "Now all that practice in the orchard will come in handy!"

"The _orchard,_ Weasley? You practice in an _orchard?_ " The familiar drawl came from behind them, and Harry and Ron turned to find Malfoy sneering at them.

"Of course, at the manor we have an actual pitch in the grounds, warded so the muggles can't see it," Malfoy said to Crabbe, Goyle and Stefan, all of whom were clustered around him. Harry noticed Stefan seemed to be avoiding looking at him.

"I suppose," Harry said lightly, "now you have a sibling on the way, you'll even have someone to play against one day. It must be very easy to win when you're an only child. At least playing with all Ron's brothers gave us a real game."

"Don't talk about my family, Potter," Malfoy hissed, his face turning an ugly shade of pink.

"Why not? You're father had no problem talking about me," Harry said coldly. Ron stood at Harry's shoulder, but behind them, Harry was dimly aware that a circle was gathering.

"I'll get you for the things you said about my father!" Malfoy spat viciously, his silver eyes narrowed with dislike. "It's your fault he didn't become minister!"

"I know," Harry said, smiling genially at Malfoy, which seemed to enrage him even more. "Lucky I was there to tell everyone about him, wasn't it?"

Malfoy took a step towards Harry, and the crowd that had gathered behind them hovered with anticipation of a fight. Harry stood his ground, looking Malfoy straight in the eye. "Come and get it Draco," Harry said in a deadly whisper. "I've already broken your wrist three times. I'm getting bored. Next time I might go for something less fixable."

Malfoy's face twisted, and he raised his wand. But before he could fire a spell at Harry...

" _What_ do you think you are doing?"

The voice was silky and barely above a whisper, but instantly everyone froze. The crowd melted away swiftly as the familiar form of Professor Snape appeared in their midst. He was looking down on Harry and Malfoy with an expression of fury on his pale face.

"It was Potter's fault sir," Malfoy said immediately. "Potter insulted my family."

Snape switch his gaze to Harry, and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't _insult,_ exactly." Harry said thoughtfully. "I only agreed with Malfoy, when he blamed me for his father losing the election. So no," Harry hesitated. "Not really insulting. More like threatening. I threatened to break one of his bones, I just hadn't specified which one yet."

Ron groaned, and Stefan looked up in surprise. Professor Snape's face twisted. "Detention Potter," he hissed. "My office, tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Harry said, nodding solemnly. "Of course."

"What was that about?" Ron griped as soon as they left the common room. "Were you _trying_ to get detention?"

"Yes," Harry said, giving Ron a look that suggested he was being very stupid. "Of course I was. How else am I going to get to speak to Professor Snape privately?"

"You can't have planned that!"

"Of course I didn't, Ron." Harry rolled his eyes. "I just took advantage of the situation, since I needed to have a word with him anyway. Now come on, or we'll be late for class."

As they left the castle and walked down towards the greenhouses, Ron looked out towards the distant quidditch pitch. Figures were barely visible, hovering a few metres off the ground. It looked like a first year flying lesson to Harry.

"I hope I get onto the team," Ron sighed wistfully.

"Still want to play Keeper?" Harry asked.

"If I can," Ron said. "But I'll take what I can get. You?"

"I'd like to play seeker if I can," Harry said thoughtfully.

"We should get some practice in," Ron said eagerly. "Before tryouts!"

"We could go to the pitch tonight," Harry suggested as they joined the other Slytherins and the Gryffindors in front of the greenhouses, nodding hello to Neville, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, peering into greenhouse three.

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked, still trying to see through the window.

"Quidditch!" Ron said excitedly. "Slytherin tryouts have been announced! We're going to the pitch to practice tonight!"

Before Neville could reply, Professor Sprout appeared from the direction of another greenhouse, covered in earth from her boots to the tip of her pointed witches hat. They filed into the greenhouse after Neville, and spent another session feeding the mandrake babies, unable to talk because of the enormous earmuffs.

\\\/

After dinner that night, Harry, Ron, Neville and a reluctant Hermione headed down to the Quidditch pitch. Ron had borrowed Vapour to write home to his parents, and ask them if they could send Charlie's old broom, in the hope that he wasn't laughed out of tryouts. Neville was borrowing a school broom, and Harry had privately ordered a cleansweep seven. With the gold in his account, Harry could technically have bought any broom he wanted. But Harry knew Ron was sensitive about money, and there would be something incredibly tactless about buying a top of the range broom, when Ron was flying on an old family one.

That evening they were all practising on the school brooms. They reached the pitch with about an hour of daylight left, and Harry, Ron and Neville immediately took to the sky. Hermione wobbled up after them reluctantly, looking very nervous.

"Come on Hermione," Harry said, swooping down from above to hover beside her. "You just need to be confident."

"I'm trying," Hermione said weakly, gripping the broom with white knuckles as though her life depended on it.

"What's up?" Ron asked, appearing on Hermione's other side.

Harry shook his head, not wanting to embarrass Hermione. Ron though, with a highly unusual display of tact, seemed to understand in a glance. Taking hold of Hermione's arm, he gestured to Harry to take her other arm. The three of them did a few laps of the pitch like that, in an awkward kind of three-broomed wobble, until Hermione looked less nervous. Neville flew beneath them, reassuring Hermione that should anything happen, he would be able to catch her. After a few laps, Hermione seemed more confident, but she bowed out of the practice session after only half an hour, claiming she was happy to watch from the stands.

Ron, Harry and Neville used the remaining time to practice with Harry's set of quidditch balls. Harry and Neville played chasers, while Ron hovered near the golden hoops, defending. Ron was surprisingly good at keeping, but Harry thought he wouldn't like to be a chaser full time. When the light eventually faded, they were about to head back to a distant Hermione in the stands, when Harry noticed something out of the corner of his eye. There was another player on the pitch.

In the twilight, Harry could only make out a dark figure, and he flew closer to have a look. To his surprise, the flyer was none of than the new Slytherin, Stefan Skorik. He seemed relatively at home on a broomstick, and was performing intricate flying movements in a very small corner of the pitch, not moving out towards the main area at all. Harry was surprised to see him - it was the first time he had seen the boy outside of the company of Draco Malfoy since the first morning of their training.

Stefan seemed like a loner to Harry, who was at a loss to know why he spent so much time with Malfoy. There was certainly no love lost there - Malfoy belittled the tall boy at every opportunity, and had even begun to request that Stefan fetched and carried for him. Harry had no idea why Stefan seemed to accept it so readily, and it was a little unnerving to see a dangerous creature like a werewolf, act like a servant to another wizard he could have easily torn apart.

"Hello!" Harry hailed the other boy as he drew closer. He could see that Stefan was flying on a very old and rickety school broom, but his motions were fluid and well executed. Stefan looked up, and jumped so violently when he saw Harry, that he nearly fell off his broom.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, slowing down. "I thought you saw me."

Stefan said nothing, but looked down at the ground, as though assessing how fast he could get there. He didn't seemed inclined to respond.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked curiously, coming to a hover. Ron and Neville had followed Harry, and drew up on either side of him. Stefan looked terrified at the sight of three of them, and immediately drifted backwards a few metres.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked as he drew level.

"Fine," Stefan said reluctantly, not making eye contact. "Sorry. Got to go."

Without another word, Stefan wrenched his broom around, and headed for the ground. Ron looked like he wanted to go after the boy, but Harry stopped him.

"He looked scared of us," Neville mused. "I wonder if he's alright."

"I don't know," Harry frowned. "It's hard to tell. Perhaps I'll ask Professor Snape tomorrow. Anyway we'd better get back to Hermione - its almost curfew."

Hermione was reading a complicated book on human Transfiguration when they landed in the stands, with a little jar of bluebell flames next to her, casting a pale blue glow over the pages full of dense writing. She looked up, looking pleased to see them.

"Oh hello," Hermione said. "Is it time to go? It's getting rather cold."

The four of them returned their brooms to the broomshed, and wandered back up to the castle, clustered around Hermione's jar of flames. Harry asked Hermione why she had stopped playing so early, hoping she wouldn't be offended at the well-meant question.

"It was easier when Ginny was teaching me," Hermione admitted.

"I'm surprised she didn't come actually," Harry said thoughtfully, looking towards the distant castle.

"She has a first year study session," Hermione said, sounding disappointed. "Otherwise she would have done."

"Does Daphne play?" Ron asked. Over the past week, Hermione, Ginny and Daphne had been often seen in each others company. Harry was surprised at their unlikely friendship that seemed to have sprung up, as he couldn't imagine three girls more different.

"I don't think so," Hermione said, frowning. "Daphne was raised in a very traditional pureblood family. They don't like their girls to do things like play quidditch."

"Shame," Harry commented. "If Ginny comes to practice with us, it's a pity Daphne wouldn't."

"Flying isn't for everyone," Hermione pointed out. "I'm still not even sure it's for me."

The castle was lit up as night fell, and they were shivering by the time they entered the entrance hall. Curfew was nearly upon them, and Harry and Ron said goodbye to Neville and Hermione, before heading down to the Slytherin dormitories.

When Harry entered the dormitory, he was pleased to find Sanna had managed to sniff her way back to Slytherin after spending the day exploring the castle and grounds. She was curled up sleeping on his pillow, her little tail flickering slightly as she dreamed. Harry undressed, and moved the little snake over, so he could rest his head on the pillow. Sanna awoke briefly, hissed at him for disturbing her, and then returned to sleep. Harry smiled as he closed his eyes, feeling his snake wrap herself tightly around his wrist in their usual position. It was an odd pet/human relationship, but he loved his grumpy little serpent friend.

\\\/

Harry headed downstairs for Professors Snape's detention with a vague feeling of trepidation the following evening. He knocked on the familiar door, and entered. The room still boasted an unpleasant and impressively large collection of pickled animals on shelves behind the desk, and was much colder than the rest of Slytherin. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if this was done deliberately to make students nervous and uncomfortable.

Professor Snape was frowning when Harry arrived. "Sit," he said sharply, gesturing at an uncomfortable looking chair in front of his desk. "And explain your behaviour yesterday."

"Oh that was nothing," Harry shrugged. "I just wanted to speak to you privately, and I needed an excuse."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously at those words. "Unacceptable," the man hissed. "If you wish to speak to me, you book an appointment or visit my office. You do not attempt to give yourself detentions."

"Sorry sir," Harry apologised. "It was rather spur of the moment."

Professors Snape held his glare for another moment, before relaxing his face. "Very well Potter," he sighed. "What did you want?"

Harry hesitated. He had gone in too fast when speaking with Professor Snape the previous year and learned his lesson. But it was difficult to judge with the dour potions master, exactly when too far would be too far.

"I wanted to ask you about Professor Lupin," Harry said eventually.

The reaction was instantaneous. Professor Snape's face tightened, and lines deepened across his forehead. He gave Harry a look of intense distrust. "What about Lupin?" Snape snapped.

"I just...you know Professor Lupin is training with us in the morning?"

"Yes, I had heard," Snape sneered.

"I just wanted to check that hadn't made a difference. I really appreciated what you did for me at the end of last year, and I know there's some bad blood between you and Professor Lupin..." Harry hesitated at the murderous look on Snape's face, and then plowed on. "So I just wanted to reiterate really, that it meant a lot to me that you saved Hermione and I, and I don't condone what Professor Lupin, or my father or Sirius did."

Professor Snape seemed to be trying very hard to control himself. He was breathing very deeply, his nostrils flaring, and his dark eyes burning. Just when Harry thought he had gone too far again, and was preparing to make a run for it, Professor Snape let out a deep breath, almost like a sigh.

"You're so much like your mother," Professor Snape said, giving Harry an odd look, and relaxing his hands from the firsts they had clenched into. "Even if you are a Slytherin. "Your mother wasn't afraid to say what she thought either."

"I'm sorry sir,". Harry apologised. "It's just...you were friends with my mother, and I never even knew her. I don't want to be at odds with someone my mother cared about."

Professor Snape frowned slightly. "We are not at odds, Potter. We are Slytherins, and inter house unity is vital - something you would do well to remember with Mr Malfoy. And for the sake of that unity, I will not hold a personal grudge against any Slytherin student."

"Lucky I'm not a Gryffindor then," Harry said wryly.

Professor Snape's eyes glittered. "Yes Potter, it is lucky."

"But my mother was," Harry said, unsure if this was pushing his luck too far.

Professor Snape stared at Harry for a long moment. Then he rose to his feet, his long black robes falling in billowing folds around him. "Follow me Potter," he said, sounding deeply reluctant. Harry expected the potions master to leave the office, but instead he turned to a door that was towards the back of the room. Harry followed Professor Snape through the door, and was surprised to find himself in a small sitting room. Looking around in disbelief, he realised he was in the potions professor's private rooms.

The room was small, and surprisingly cosy after the chill of the office. There was a fire burning in the grate, and almost every wall was covered in bookshelves. Harry could only imagine what Hermione's reaction would be upon entering a room like this. There was a mahogany desk against one wall with piles of parchment upon it, and two comfortable looking black leather armchairs beside the fire.

Professor Snape seemed to be searching for something on a shelf. Harry hovered beside the door, not wanting to enter any further in the potions master's private domain. He was already slightly stunned he had been allowed in. Eventually Snape turned around, holding a small leather book in his hands.

"I cannot give you this," Professor Snape said slowly, clutching the book as though it contained something very precious. "It is all I have. But should you wish to peruse it for a while...I would not object."

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"Your mother," Professor Snape replied stiffly, making no motion to hand over the book. "I know you have pictures of her later Hogwarts years and marriage to your father. But I knew her as a child, and these are some pictures I collected over the years. You will understand why I cannot give it to you."

"Of course" Harry breathed, staring at the book. "I can't believe... I never thought..."

"Yes, well," Professor Snape said, looking the closest thing to uncomfortable Harry had ever seen the older man look. "I shall be in my office. I will return in an hour. Do _not_ touch anything else."

With those parting words, Professor Snape handed Harry the small book, and disappeared back into his office. The door closed with a click. Harry stared at the book in his hands. Slowly, he went over to the fire and dropped into one of the comfortable black leather chairs. Then he opened the first page, and began the album. Harry stared at the pictures spread out before him.

His mother had been a pretty child. She had been pale, with a heart-shaped face and dancing green eyes, the same ones Harry saw reflected back at him every day. The pictures were not magical, but there was a certain life about them all the same. The first picture was his mother looking about ten, wearing muggle clothes, sitting on a swing in a playground. Then there was Lily in her Hogwarts robes, standing by the express looking shy and proud, a brand new tunk next to her. Lily sitting in a train compartment, Lily gazing in wonder at the Hogsmeade station. Each picture was carefully labeled in spidery handwriting, and Harry flicked through the book.

 _First day at Hogwarts; On the train; At the astronomy tower; By the forest; Playing cards by the lake with Alice and Mary._ With a painful jolt of recognition, Harry paused at the last image. His mother looked to be still in her first year, and was sitting under the willow tree by the lake with a young Snape - and a girl who looked so much like Neville it made Harry's heart ache.

It hurt to see these pictures of his mother the same age or younger than he was. Dreaming of the future,never knowing she wouldn't live past the age of twenty. Alice Longbottom, never getting to see her son grow up, Mary, also dead. Occasionally Harry caught sight of Sirius or Remus in pictures that involved crowds of students, although he never saw his father. Harry suspected that had been a concentrated cull on the part of Professor Snape.

Harry came to the end of the album, and closed the cover. He shut his eyes tightly, but not tightly enough to prevent a single tear leaking out and trickling down his cheek.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly to Professor Snape, when the older man returned.

Professor Snape nodded at Harry, who was grateful for once for the potions master's reticence. Harry didn't want to talk, he just wanted to get back to his dormitory and close his eyes, and imagine the life he could have known.

In the morning he could focus on what needed to be achieved, but for now, Harry Potter just needed to grieve.

\\\/

 **I always thought that if Harry had been in Slytherin, Snape would have been more likely to observe for longer before forming an opinion, rather than jumping in with the whole hatred thing. He's a deeply flawed character, and one of the biggest disappointments in the book for me was that we didn't see a more slow, realistic redemption.**

 **Also I love the character of Hermione. I think she always struggled with being feminine while surrounded by boys, especially since she's a strong character herself, (can you imagine getting periods and dealing with personal hygiene on the horcrux hunt?) So for this story, I really wanted her to have some female friends to explore that natural side of herself with, while remaining the badass girl who can keep up with the boys, that we all know and love.**

 **Thanks as always for reading.**

 **-Cas**


	26. Chapter 26

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Eight**

 **\\\/**

The Saturday of the quidditch tryouts dawned with perfect blue skies and a sense of expectation in the air. There was a definite feeling of anticipation at the Slytherin table during breakfast, and both Hermione, Harry and Neville were kept occupied with a serious case of nerves on Ron's part.

The other houses weren't immune to the events of the day, and by lunchtime, reports had arrived that the Gryffindors were planning to send a delegation to watch the Slytherin tryouts. Marcus Flint had stormed from the Great Hall in a rage, when he was informed tartly by Professor McGonagall that the quidditch stands were not out of bounds for members of other houses. Hermione, who was sitting with Harry and Ron, sighed as the Slytherins applauded Flint's pointed departure. Flying was alright, Hermione mused, but not something to get yourself landed in detention over.

In the afternoon, Hermione, Daphne and Ginny walked down to the quidditch pitch to watch the tryouts. Neville was already there, and Harry and Ron had vanished to get ready. Ginny was rhapsodising eagerly about the various merits of the players to Hermione. Daphne was saying little, but seemed inclined to tolerate Ginny's babbling, although Hermione herself listened with less interest.

"The real question is whether or not Malfoy is actually any _good,"_ Ginny said, as they came in sight of the pitch. There was a huddle of hopefuls in the centre of the field clutching broomsticks. Ron's red hair made him easily distinguishable from the rest. His face was pale green, and he was holding Charlie's broomstick in a death grip.

"Malfoy? What's he trying out for again?" Hermione asked absentmindedly.

"Seeker!" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"He is good," Daphne interrupted reluctantly, screwing her pretty face up. "The boys always took their brooms to the family meetings we went to as children, and believe me, Draco isn't bluffing."

"Damn," Ginny said glumly, looking with distaste at the pale blonde head in the crowd as they made their way to their seats. From their vantage point they could just see the hulking figure of Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain, shouting something at the players.

The crowd in the centre of the field shuffled around for a moment, and then divided into several groups. Harry, Malfoy and an older Slytherin Hermione thought was called Terence Higgs, all stood together. Ron was in another group.

"I think he's dividing them by position," Ginny whispered. Then, more loudly, "Oh hi Neville!"

Neville had been saving them seats in the Gryffindor stand, as neither Hermione nor Neville wanted to sit among the Slytherins when tensions were running so high amongst the houses. An accusation of spying was a real possibility.

"Alright Ginny?" Neville smiled, standing up to greet them. "Hermione, Daphne."

The four of them took their seats, and settled down to watch. They couldn't hear from their positions, which made it difficult. But when the largest group of hopefuls took to the sky with a quaffle, they could tell Flint was starting with chasers. Hermione leaned back in her seat, and pulled out her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ with relief. There was little point in watching a tryout that didn't involve Harry or Ron. Next to her, Ginny and Daphne were in conversation again.

"...never expected to see a Weasley in Slytherin, let alone two," Daphne was saying. The blonde girl had a cutting voice, but she wasn't as rough with Ginny, perhaps sensing that the younger girl was still nervous around her fellow Slytherins.

"I expected it," Ginny said, craning her head to watch the players. "I was quite relieved when Ron got put in Slytherin first - I was sure I would, and it was nice to have someone soften the blow first."

Daphne, surprised, gave an involuntary laugh. "Maybe he stole your thunder."

"You try having thunder with six brothers."

"I have a sister," Daphne admitted. "And that's quite enough for me. More than enough, she drives me mad."

"Why?" Ginny asked curiously, looking away from the pitch for a moment to glance at Daphne. "I would have loved a sister."

"I would have loved a sibling, male or female," Hermione said wistfully, looking up from her book. "But after I started doing strange things, mum and dad decided not to have anymore children."

"I forget you're muggleborn sometimes," Daphne said, looking oddly at Hermione. "You spend so much time with the Slytherins that I almost think you're a pureblood."

"Hermione acts more pureblood than me," Ginny grinned. "Hey look! I think Flint's chosen the chasers."

They looked down at the pitch, where a straggling, dejected looking line of players were leaving the pitch. The next group were easy to identify; they were all being handed heavy, lethal looking bats.

"If I played quidditch, I'd definitely try out for beater," Neville said thoughtfully.

"Really?" Ginny said, sounding astonished. Neville flushed red. Although her friend had grown a great deal in confidence over the past year, Hermione couldn't help but notice that Neville still struggled with admitting he wanted anything, or cared about anything overly much. After meeting his Grandmother at Christmas, Hermione had to wonder how much of it came from his strict upbringing.

"Yeah," Neville rallied. "I don't have the coordination for any other position, but I could probably manage swinging a bat."

"Why don't you try?" Ginny asked enthusiastically.

"Gran wouldn't let me," Neville mumbled, turning even redder. Daphne raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, but for once, made no comment to Hermione's relief.

They watched the pitch in silence for a moment. Players were taking to the sky in pairs, taking it in turns to hit bludgers that rocketed around the pitch. It was hard to tell what they were aiming for. Hermione had just returned to her book, when Daphne brought up the subject they had dropped.

"Why did you doing magic make your parents not have any more children?" Daphne asked. She sounded genuinely curious.

"Oh well, it was quite scary for them," Hermione said, closing her book again with reluctance. "Imagine you have no idea what magic is. You think it's not real, it's imaginary, and anyone who says differently is either mad or lying."

"I find that very hard to imagine," Daphne admitted.

"You would," Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'm a pureblood, but we live in a muggle village. As a kid, I played with the muggles. Have you even _met_ one Daphne?"

"I've met muggles!" Daphne said, sounding offended.

"Spoken to one?"

"Well..."

"And I mean a conversation. Not just one or two words."

"Ah..."

" _Really?_ " Hermione asked, staring at Daphne. It was a way of life she couldn't imagine.

"Look, you don't get it!" Daphne exclaimed. "The pureblood families, the ones that protect that way of life - we work differently. We only really mix with each other. Growing up, my sister and I were never allowed to even leave the manor grounds, in case we got exposed to ' _undesirable elements of society._ "

"Wow." Ginny said, her eyes still tracking the flight of the bludgers around the pitch. "That's sad."

"I don't know," Daphne frowned, furrowing her brow. "It was...fine. It was what we expected. We didn't know anything different."

"I kind of know what you mean though," Neville interjected. "I mean, we went to Harry's country over the summer. It was different to anything I've ever seen before. It was incredible, but everything was different. And I'm not just talking about the landscape and the food. The way of life, the very core values at the centre of their society is totally different to ours. Yet to Harry, we're the weird ones, and that's normal to him."

"That's it," Hermione said, picking up on his words. "Like magic is still a bit strange for me, but it's all you've ever known."

"Look," Ginny interjected, leaning over the stands again. "Ron."

Half a dozen figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to keep. Ron had if possible, gone even paler. From the stands, he looked like a white blob, topped with orange. The new Slytherin chasers were hovering by the goalposts, tossing a quaffle between themselves as they waited to test the keepers.

The first figure flew up to the goalposts, and hovered to face the chasers. Ron, staring upwards, seemed to be trying to go last as he edged towards the end of the line.

"Ron," Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. "He's a decent keeper, but he can't handle an audience."

"Can I sit with you?" An eager voice squeaked from behind them. "You're Harry's friends, aren't you? Is Harry trying out? Is he good at quidditch too? Oh wow, I can't wait!"

Hermione and the others turned around with disbelief, to see a very small first year standing in the row of seats behind them, clutching a camera. His face was painfully eager, and he looked as though nothing in the world could possibly more exciting or enjoyable than sitting with them.

"Er, hello," Neville said after a moment. Daphne had already turned back to the pitch with an disdainful sniff.

"Be nice," Hermione said under her breath. "He's only a first year."

"I'm Colin, we met the other day" the small boy said, taking the seat next to Neville with no prompting. "Quidditch is amazing, isn't it? I used to play football, but this is brilliant! I can't wait to watch a game!"

"What's football?" Neville asked, looking bewildered.

Hermione sighed, as Colin launched into a detailed explanation, and turned her attention back to the pitch. The person currently guarding the goalposts wasn't doing a particularly good job, even to Hermione's untrained eyes. They let two goals in during the first few minutes. Ron was standing below, the only person left to be tried. Finally, the Slytherin hopeful drifted back to earth, and Ron took to the sky.

"It's Ron, Neville," Hermione said, interrupting Colin's spiel. Far from looking upset by the interruption, Colin raised his camera aloft in readiness, his face shining with glee.

"Of course, I really want to get a picture of Harry," Colin said, craning his head back towards the pitch.

No one replied. They were all staring at Ron, who was hovering in front of the goalposts, looking very small next to the chasers, all of whom seemed to be fifth year or above. Ron saved the first goal with ease.

"Go Ron!" Ginny called.

Ron glanced towards the stands, fumbled the second and dropped the quaffle. He returned to the goalposts looking very red, but managed to save the third and fourth goal. On the fifth though, the chaser feinted, and Ron flew towards the left hoop, while the quaffle soared through the right. He returned to earth, and joined the huddle of players on the pitch.

"How was that?" Hermione asked Ginny nervously. "Three saves. How many did he need?"

"Not sure," Ginny said anxiously. "I don't think we'll hear until the end. Look, it must be time for the seekers."

All five of them leaned over the edge of the stands, Colin clutching his camera tightly to stop it falling fifty feet to the ground. Harry was standing in a small circle with Marcus Flint, Malfoy and Terence Higgs. They seemed to be having a volatile argument. Higgs looked like he was shouting at Flint, and Harry looked furious.

"What's going on?" Colin said worriedly. The next moment, Higgs turned and stormed off the field, shouting something over his shoulder at Flint.

"Something's wrong," Ginny said. "Let's go see."

The five of them got to the pitch in time to see Harry following Higgs' example and leaving the pitch, an expression like thunder on his face. They met him at the end of the field.

"What happened Harry?" Hermione asked, as Ginny melted away behind Daphne. When faced with the actual presence of Harry, Ginny seemed to become afflicted with speechlessness.

"Malfoy," Harry said bitterly, tossing his broom on the ground. Harry didn't get angry often, and it was always unexpected when he did.

"What happened?" Daphne asked.

"Malfoy is the new Slytherin seeker," Harry said. "Come on, let's go find Ron."

Ignoring their exclamations of disbelief, Harry turned towards the Slytherin players. As they walked around the pitch to the crowd of tryout hopefuls, Colin tagging behind them, Harry explained what had happened.

"Malfoy's father bought brooms for the entire Slytherin team. Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The best brooms on the market, and he's bought seven of them. In return, Malfoy's replacing Higgs as seeker."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "He can't do that! That's bribery!"

"Flint didn't care," Harry scowled. "He said that having the best seeker wouldn't matter when the brooms were superior."

"That's ridiculous!" Ginny said heatedly, and then turned sunset red when Harry nodded at her words.

"Exactly. This is payback for keeping his father out of office. Daddy can't be minister, but Draco can be on the school quidditch team."

"Can't you do something?" Colin piped up, running to keep up with Harry's angry strides. "Can't you appeal to Professor Dumbledore?"

"The problem is," Hermione said thoughtfully. "That it's not just this event. It's the whole message it sends - that purebloods can buy their way into anything they like. Sorry Daphne," she added apologetically.

"Don't apologise," Daphne said somewhat haughtily. "It's true. Purebloods believe they can use their money and influence to have whatever they want. My parents believe that, and so do the Malfoy's, the Flint's, and most of the Slytherin families. It's just the way life is. When you stopped Malfoy becoming minister, you really rocked the boat."

Harry stopped so suddenly that Colin ran right into him and bounced off. Harry looked deep in thought. His brow was furrowed, and he was narrowing his eyes at the centre of the field, where Malfoy still stood with Flint.

"Daphne," Harry said suddenly. "Odd question, but does your family know anyone at the Daily Prophet?"

Daphne looked bewildered. "Not mine," she said. "But Blaise does. His uncle is the deputy editor. Why?"

"Got any leverage? Any chance they'd print a story without warning Lucius Malfoy first, even if it implicated him?"

"I'd have to ask Blaise," Daphne said, her eyes narrowing. "I'll have a word though. He's no big fan of Draco."

"Great. Ginny, you know a lot about Quidditch don't you?" Harry asked, turning his attention to the younger girl. Ginny looked terrified to be singled out, but nodded mutely at Harry.

"Excellent. Will you do something for me? I'll see you're both paid for this,but I need you to team up with Hermione and write an article on what happened today. But not just the bare bones - the implications behind it. Ginny, you've got the Quidditch know-how, and you're from a Wizarding family. Hermione though is from the muggle world, which means she understands exactly how serious this kind of corruption is, and will be able to write about it in a suitably inflammatory way. Plus, she's brilliant at essay writing."

Hermione blushed at the compliment, but wasn't sure about the idea. "Harry, the Prophet won't print that."

"Our leverage," Harry reminded her, nodding at Daphne, who was looking mildly impressed.

"Finally, the icing on the cake," Harry said, spinning around to face Colin. The little first year was staring at Harry, undisguised hero worship on his face. "Colin, we'll need a couple of pictures to go with this article. Can you take them?"

"What? Now?" Colin asked, practically quivering with excitement at being involved in such a plot.

"Please," Harry nodded. "I was thinking one of Flint and Malfoy, then one of Higgs flying, and one of me flying. Can you manage that?"

"I can take you now," Colin said eagerly. "And the other seeker later. Malfoy and the big Slytherin won't want to be taken, but I can use a telephoto lens, and take it long distance!"

"Excellent Colin," Harry said, smiling at the boy. Hermione smiled too. Colin reminded her of a puppy: Over excited, eager to please, and full of energy. "Come on, we'd better get to Ron."

Hermione stared in disbelief as the group strode purposefully off across the pitch. In the muggle world, such a thing could never have happened. A group of school children could never have engineered a plot to make the front page of the newspaper over a case of a parent bribing their child onto a sports team. But, as Hermione reminded herself, this was different. Hogwarts was the _only_ school in Britain for magicals, and Lucius Malfoy was a high-ranking member of the Ministry, with a history of corruption. Perhaps it was more newsworthy than it initially seemed.

Ron, as it turned out, hadn't made it onto the team either. "I was this close," he said mournfully, holding up his finger and thumb to show them how close. "But that fifth year saved all five goals, so he got in fair and square."

"Never mind Ron," Harry said comfortingly. "Most people don't get into the team during their second year. Besides, wait until you hear what happened with the seeker tryouts."

\\\/

Over the next few days, Hermione and Ginny pulled together an article over lunchtimes and evenings in the library. Daphne sat with them, adding her wealth of information on the Malfoy family. Blaise had written to his uncle, who had easily agreed to publish the controversial article, providing it was looked over by one of the Daily Prophet journalists first, to check the writing quality was up to scratch. This in turn had the effect of making Hermione and Ginny even more nervous, and every bit of spare time they scraped together was used to polish the article until they finally agreed it really couldn't be improved upon.

Colin followed several Slytherins around with his camera for days before someone gently pointed out to him who Terence Higgs and Marcus Flint were. The pictures he produced though, were phenomenal. Hermione had known that Colin loved photography, but had assumed it was so he could take pictures to send home to his muggle relatives. What none of them had realised though was just how talented the young Gryffindor was.

"These are incredible Colin," Hermione exclaimed, as they were putting together the final package to send to the Daily Prophet. The pictures of Harry executing aerial acrobatics were really amazing, especially since the pictures moved. Terence Higgs also had some stunt pictures taken, involving him in his quidditch robes. The Slytherin teams ex-seeker had been slightly bemused when approached by Colin, but agreed when he heard what they were trying to do. There was even a quote from him in the article.

" _It's not that I think I should be seeker, just because I was last year,"_ Higgs has said. " _But there should have at least been a fair tryout. We've never even seen Malfoy fly."_

 _"_ Well," Harry said, tying the large package firmly between Vapour, and Daphne's snowy owl Sienna. "Amazing work everyone. Thank you so much - can't wait to see what Malfoy makes of this."

They stood at the owlery window and gazed out at the sky as the two owls disappeared into the distance, looking like one strange large animal as they merged with the gathering darkness.

"I can't believe my pictures are going to be in the prophet," Colin exclaimed happily.

\\\/

Blaise, who seemed thoroughly amused by the whole plot, had told them it might be a few days to a week before the article could be published. That didn't stop everyone spending breakfast time in a state of high anticipation that lasted right up until the mail arrived. Hermione and Neville had given up all pretence, and taken up permanent residence at the Slytherin table while they waited to hear the news. Harry, Ron and Ginny were happy to sit with the Gryffindors or the Ravenclaws, but Daphne flatly refused.

"It wouldn't be appropriate, and I'd hear about it at home," Daphne said stiffly, and refused to say anymore about it.

About a week after the parcel was sent, the six of them were sitting at one end of the Slytherin table when the post owls swooped through the great hall, knocking over breakfast and spilling pumpkin juice in every direction. Harry looked up in surprise as six screech owls headed for him, carrying a heavy load between them. A large box landed in front of him, wrapped in brown paper, with an envelope stuck to the top.

"That can't be the Prophet," Hermione said, sounding disappointed as she scanned the departing owls.

"I think I know what this is," Harry said, giving Neville a significant look. Neville caught on immediately, and his face lit up.

"Is it the Mandrakes from Nicholas? I told Professor Sprout you might be able to source some, and she's already set up a project for me!"

"I think it might be," Harry said, reaching for the envelope.

"I didn't know you wrote to Nicholas," Hermione said, surprised.

"You don't take herbology with us, I think we talked about it then," Harry shrugged, slitting open the envelope. "Neville wanted some mature plants to experiment with, and I happened to mention that Nicky had some in his garden. Listen:

 _"Dear Harry and Neville,_

 _DO NOT OPEN THIS BOX WITHOUT PROPER SUPERVISION AND PROTECTION. THE MANDRAKES WITHIN ARE FULLY MATURED AND EXCEEDINGLY DANGEROUS. TAKE THIS BOX IMMEDIATELY TO YOUR HERBOLOGY PROFESSOR."_

"Doesn't have much faith in us, does he?" Neville said, eyeing the box warily. "I'm not touching that without Professor Sprout."

"Shhh," Hermione said, as Harry kept reading.

" _I was delighted to receive your letter Harry, and pleased you are having an interesting year. Yes, you were correct, I do grow Mandrakes in my garden, and you are most welcome to this sample to experiment with. Should you need any more, feel free to contact me. Your friend Neville, the herbology expert, is very welcome to visit and examine the plant species I collect at his leisure - any friend of yours is always welcome._

 _Perry sends her love, and asks you to tell Sanna that we miss her company._

 _Nicholas Flamel"_

Neville had flushed furiously red when Nicholas described him as a herbology expert, but looked very pleased. "Can we take these down to the greenhouse now?" Neville said pleadingly. Harry capitulated, and Ron jumped up to go with them. They departed, lugging the heavy box between them, while Hermione was still scanning the ceiling, looking hopefully for a late owl.

The greenhouses were empty except for a flustered looking Professor Sprout, and for some reason, Susan Bones. The Hufflepuff girl was wearing thick gardening gloves, and appeared to be helping Professor Sprout trim the nose-biting roses. They were both holding long handled gardening shears, and standing at a distance from the grumpy, snapping plants.

"Professor Sprout!" Neville said eagerly, hurrying forward. "The Mandrakes have arrived!"

"Gracious Longbottom, don't jump out at me like that," Professor Sprout said, mopping at her brow and smearing a streak of dirt across her forehead. "They've arrived have they? Excellent news. We can begin the project tonight, if you're available?"

"I can," Neville beamed.

"Wonderful. Are you bringing any friends?" Professor Sprout asked, raising her eyebrows at Harry and Ron. "It could be an excellent learning opportunity."

"I can't," Harry said regretfully. "I just have too much to do at the moment."

"Can I join?" Susan asked suddenly, looking away from the plant she was attempting to trim, and pushing her protective goggles up so she could see them properly.

"Er, sure," Neville said, smiling at Susan. "We have herbology with the Slytherins, so we can't work on anything in class together, but you're welcome to come to the evening sessions. "

"Weasley?" Professor Sprout asked, shooting Susan an approving look.

"What? Oh, yes," Ron mumbled, shaking his head slightly. "Sure."

"Lovely! I'll see you three tonight after dinner," Professor Sprout said, lowering her protective goggles and turning back to the roses. Taking the dismissal, Harry, Ron and Neville left the greenhouse.

"I can't believe you got out of that Harry," Ron said, shaking his head as they walked back up to the castle. They passed the little blonde girl, Luna, who Harry had met in Hogsmeade, who seemed to be wandering towards Hagrids. Harry almost called out to her, but she was too far away.

"I am busy!" Harry protested, his mind already back on his day. "Come on, or we'll be late for Defense. What if the Prophet arrived after we left? Hermione will kill us if we don't get there in time to read it before the lesson."

But the anxiously awaited copy of the Daily Prophet didn't arrive for almost another week.

Ron and Neville disappeared every other evening to the greenhouse, wearing protective clothing and the biggest earmuffs Harry had ever seen. Harry spent the evenings in the library with Hermione, Daphne and Ginny, either doing homework, or extra research on defense.

Late at night, Ron would return to Slytherin covered in earth, always with a slightly punch drunk expression. When Harry asked what was so interesting about mandrakes, Ron just shook his head and said nothing. Neville, on the other hand, was overflowing with excitement about the experiments they were conducting on the mandrakes. The latest achievement, was introducing an adult mandrake to a baby mandrake. The adult mandrake had apparently adopted the baby mandrake, and had even become quite protective towards it.

"And you should have seen it Harry! The moment when the little baby mandrake refused to leave the pot with the mature mandrake, and the mature mandrake wrapped its roots around the baby mandrake..." Neville rhapsodised one morning at breakfast. "And Susan found this extra large pot that was apparently made for mandrake adoption, and we let them settle in. They're becoming a family!"

"Before you cut them up for potions ingredients?" Harry asked politely.

"It's not like that! It's - "

But what it was, they never found out. Neville's voice was cut off by a scream from Hermione. Everyone looked at her. Hermione had knocked over a bowl of cornflakes, but didn't even seem to notice the milk dripping into her lap. She was staring at a cylindrical package that had just been dropped in the table in front of her. Immediately there was a scramble, as Ginny shoved Ron out of the way and wedged herself next to Hermione. Daphne followed more sedately, and glared at Theodore Nott until he moved over so she could sit on Hermione's other side.

"Go on then," Ginny said breathlessly. "Open it. Wait, no." Ginny stood up and turned to the Gryffindor table. "Colin!" She called, and waved the package. Colin leapt out of his seat like he had been electrocuted, and was by their side in seconds, peering over Hermione's shoulder.

"Open it!" Colin said eagerly. "Let's see!"

With shaking hands, Hermione unrolled the paper. It was the headline they had been waiting for.

 _BRIBERY, BLACKMAIL AND BLUNDERS: THE MALFOY MISTAKES._

 _Lord Lucius Malfoy accused of bribing the Hogwarts Quidditch team. Is this one example of a larger web of misdeeds?_

Below the headline was an enormous picture of Draco Malfoy falling off his broom during a quidditch training session, while Marcus Flint was clearly visible hovering in the distance. Two smaller pictures of Harry and Terence Higgs performing tricky flying manoeuvres were also on the page.

"Amazing pictures Colin," Harry complimented, scanning the rest of the article.

 _Insiders at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry today voiced their outrage at the corruption among the school governors, as Lord Lucius Malfoy is accused of using his wealth and influence to buy his son's place on the Slytherin Quidditch team._

 _"I was watching from the stands," eye witness, first year Ginny Weasley told our correspondent. "There was no seeker tryout. Marcus Flint just told the people who had shown up to try out that there was no position available."_

 _When pressed, it was admitted that a gift of seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, (the fastest racing broom in the world,) had been presented to the Slytherin team by Lord Malfoy, in return for his son's inclusion. Readers will remember Lord Malfoy as the man recently ousted from the running of Minister of Magic, a position for which he initially had strong support. Accusations of bribery were also bandied about during the election process, and subsequently lost Lord Malfoy the ministerial position._

 _Coincidentally, Harry Potter (pictured below,) was also trying out for the seeker position. Mr Potter was outspoken in his criticism of Lord Malfoy's election campaign, and a (see more page six.)_

"Great article so far," Harry said to Ginny and Hermione. Their excitement had attracted the curiosity of the rest of the Slytherins, and Harry angled the paper towards himself. They didn't want anyone getting wind of this before the full publication was released.

"Turn to page six," Colin said eagerly. "There should be another picture."

Harry flicked through the paper, but was distracted by another article. "Hey look," Harry said, his tone changing. "Did anyone know about this? Theodore's dad just got made undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. What exactly a death eater was doing in the top office of the ministry was not something Harry wanted to contemplate. Kingsley and Mad-Eye needed to be contacted about this as soon as possible.

"Congratulations Theo," Daphne said loftily, turning her eyes on the stringy boy.

"Thanks," Theodore Nott said, glancing at Harry. "Dad found out the other day. He's really pleased."

"I'll bet," Harry muttered under his breath, before perusing the article on Quidditch again. He didn't know what Nott was up to, but it could hardly be good.

The rest of the article went on to compare the corruption at the top levels of the ministry with the muggle government, a move that Harry knew would humiliate the ministry, and force them into taking action. Fudge might have been a big supporter of Malfoy, but Harry suspected no love was lost between Barty Crouch and the death-eater-who-cried-imperius.

As Harry congratulated his friends though, his mind kept going back to the second article. For some reason, the news about Edwin Nott becoming Senior Undersecretary to Crouch disturbed Harry, in a way he couldn't explain. Theodore had admitted openly that his father was a death eater, and Harry was certain this spelled nothing but more trouble.

Trouble though, Harry had to admit, was something he was becoming accustomed to.

\\\/

 **I'm going to address a few points that keep coming up:**

 _ **Sometimes I make mistakes.**_

 **Okay? I love Harry Potter, and I've read the books dozens of time, but frankly I'm a young single mum, trying to hold down a job while looking after a four month old, and adding in writing a few thousand words a day, and really my brain is quite scrambled at the moment. I'm starting a degree in September, so its only going to get worse.**

 **So if I make James a seeker by accident (I know he's a chaser, I don't even know why I wrote seeker,) or mess up a timeline, or accidentally imply someone is in the wrong house, or call Vapour Hedwig by accident, or any other mistake I've made so far that has been pointed out to me sometimes politely, but sometimes very rudely, please consider just letting it slide. Just press the x in the top right corner, and go and find another fic instead. I don't have a beta, and this story won't be perfect.**

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas,**


	27. Chapter 27

**Let me apologise for my absence. Usually I'm fine with getting two chapters out a week, but unfortunately events spiralled out of my control recently. My little 5 month old son was born ten weeks early, and has health problems related to his prematurity. He ended up in hospital with breathing problems last week, and we've been there until now.**

 **Happily he made a full recovery, and we're at home again now. But when I'm that worried, I just can't focus on writing. Things should continue as normal, but if there are any more big gaps, it's probably something reasonably serious! Onwards and upwards anyway.**

 **Year Two**

 **Chapter Nine**

\\\/

The uproar created by the release of the article on the Malfoy's lasted a week. The Great Hall had descended into chaos when the Daily Prophet had arrived the previous Monday with the inflammatory article on the front cover, and, amid the furious shouts of the Slytherins, raucous laughter could be heard from the Gryffindor table.

Draco Malfoy had risen from his seat, his face suffused with rage when the paper was pressed into his hands. Although vehemently denying all of the claims, Malfoy and Flint were put on the defensive when Ginny asked politely where, if not from Malfoy, the seven new brooms had come from. While Malfoy and Flint stammered, Harry had an eye on the top table. Professor Snape had a fixed expression on his face that didn't mask the fury in his eyes. Harry winced, and hoped the head of Slytherin never found out who exactly had sold Malfoy out.

The majority of the Slytherins seemed to be more angry at Flint and Malfoy for making a public scene at the quidditch tryouts. The concept of bribing your way onto the quidditch team with top racing brooms was something they could understand - it was a very Slytherin way of operating. But allowing the exchange to become public, and opening themselves up to the kind of accusations that Harry and the Prophet had levelled at them - that was foolish, and the furthest thing from cunning and sly.

The real beauty of the article, Harry reflected, was the anonymity of it. Under the new government, the Daily Prophet had no qualms about publishing the kinds of works that would have previously not been considered. But they still didn't want to admit they were letting teenagers write front page features. Blaise's Uncle had corresponded with Harry on the matter, and they had come to the conclusion that the best disguise was to not address the issue at all. Therefore the offending article carried no name of its author, and the Prophet, very quietly, made no comment.

Hermione and Ginny had assured Harry that they didn't mind not publicly receiving any credit. The Prophet had paid them handsomely, and had suggested that should any further articles occur to them, the editors would be pleased to at least take a look. Both girls had opened new Gringotts accounts to hold their Wizarding money. Ginny had been particularly pleased that she wouldn't be relying on her family for anything she might need throughout the year, although the source of her new income was not something she would be sharing with her parents. Harry had agreed with her. Molly Weasley would not approve of her daughters new part time job.

The happiest of all though was Colin. The first year Gryffindor had been beside himself to see his pictures in a national newspaper, let alone on the front page. He had sent several copies to his parents, and seemed completely unafraid of admitting to anyone who asked that yes, he was the photographer. It helped that the Gryffindors considered him a hero for exposing the Slytherins, and had become fiercely protective of their little photographer. Colin's small muggle camera disappeared overnight and was replaced with a larger, Wizarding version.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone else," Colin had squeaked excitedly to the group. "But the Prophet has asked me to be their unofficial Hogwarts photographer! If they need any pictures from within the castle they'll get in touch with me!"

They had all offered their congratulations to Colin, and Harry had privately told the younger boy that he would be grateful if Colin would document as much as he could of the group's activities. Kingsley's advice on using his unique position as a public figure was becoming more relevant by the day.

Lucius Malfoy had resigned from his position as a school governor following the incident, after Dumbledore indicated he would be willing to take the matter further. Harry privately thought the old headmaster was delighted to have an opportunity to remove some of Malfoy's influence from the school. Blaise reported with a smirk that Lucius had attempted to have the article retracted, and tried unsuccessfully to bribe and bully the Daily Prophet into it. His efforts had only ceased when the Prophet threatened to print another article detailing his attempts to remove the first.

They received the news one October night, on a rare occasion when all seven of them were together. They were spending a leisurely evening in the Ravenclaw tower, sitting by the fire while the rain fell outside. They had ended up in Ravenclaw by process of elimination. The Slytherins would never have put up with Colin and Neville in their common room. Likewise, the Gryffindors would have complained about four Slytherins arriving. The Ravenclaws simply didn't care, so long as the seven didn't interrupt their studying.

"Nice place Hermione," Neville commented, glancing around the blue room. It was a little like being under the sea.

"Different," Daphne said, raising her eyebrow. Colin raised his camera hopefully. A Ravenclaw third year sitting on a chair near the little Gryffindor reached out and calmly pushed the camera back down, without looking up from the essay he was annotating.

Ron stretched his legs out luxuriously towards the fire and yawned. "Any news on whether Malfoy is remaining the Slytherin seeker?"

"He isn't," Daphne said smugly. "Marcus told me. They're holding another tryout. Malfoy has to compete with everyone else."

"You're bound to make it Harry," Ron said, craning his neck to where Harry was sitting with Hermione, quietly discussing their Defense homework.

"Oh no, I'm not entering," Harry said, turning around. "Like I said to Professor Sprout about the Mandrakes, things are just too busy at the moment. I'll have another think about it next year."

"How _are_ the Mandrakes going?" Hermione asked eagerly. The Ravenclaw girl had been devastated to find that the mandrake sessions with Professor Sprout clashed with the compulsory Ravenclaw study group night.

"Amazing!" Neville said rapturously. "Nicholas sent some really good specimens, and they've just hit middle age. We think a few of them are having midlife crises, as they keep trying to sneak out of their pots at night like teenagers."

"Mandrakes have midlife crises?" Harry asked, sceptically.

"Yes, and it's terrifying," Ron said bluntly. "They're fully sized adult plants, and they keep thinking it might be fun to start roaming the castle at night. Their cries can kill, you know!"

"Professor Sprout wards the greenhouse," Neville reassured a horrified Hermione. "Every morning she finds a little row of Mandrakes by the door trying to get out."

"She wants us there tonight, doesn't she?" Ron said with sudden horror. "I'd forgotten."

"Only to tuck them into their pots for bed," Neville said, looking very pleased at the thought.

"Tonight?" Hermione said with surprise, craning her neck to look at the clock. "You'll miss curfew."

"We've got a note," Neville said, pulling one from his robes and waving it. "Excuses us, as we're doing a special project."

"You're so lucky," Hermione sighed.

"Lucky!" Ron exclaimed. "We've got to stick around until Sprout's finished warding the doors as well!"

"I wonder what wards she uses," Hermione said, sitting up with interest.

"Hermione wards aren't taught until NEWTS," Ron groaned.

"There's no harming in learning about them," Harry said mildly. "In Uganda, basic wards are taught to children. Different societies have different ways of teaching, that's all."

Just then, there was a low _meow._ Harry looked down to see a black cat padding up to the fire. Giving Ron, who was closest, an insolent look, the cat stretched itself lazily out in front of the fire. It yawned, revealing rows of pointed, sharp white teeth.

"Isn't that cat usually in Slytherin?" Harry asked Ron, frowning slightly.

"It's Stefan's cat, Vladimir," Daphne said, stretching out a hand towards the feline. The cat hissed at her, and Daphne hastily withdrew.

"Stefan Skorik?"

"Yes, it's a vicious little thing too."

Harry felt a sudden movement on his wrist, and felt smooth scales sliding across his hand. Sanna had awoken. The snake slid across Harry's knee and onto the floor. As the seven of them watched, Sanna approached the black cat without fear, and paused by its head.

" _Sssanna,"_ Harry hissed urgently. " _Get back. It will eat you."_

 _"Nonssssenssse human. Black-fur-sssharp-claw isss my moussse-hunt-friend."_

Harry stared as Sanna curled up next to the cat, who began to purr immediately. The cat tickled its tail along Sanna's scales, and the little snake hissed with pleasure.

"What are they doing?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed.

"Apparently, they're friends," Harry said, equally bewildered. "Sanna seems to know the cat."

Sanna stared up at Harry with pale, unblinking eyes. Harry could almost read her thoughts. _Foolisssh human,_ she would say. _I know what doesss and doessn't eat me in thisss cassstle._ Vladimir eyed Harry with much more speculation than trepidation, and hissed again for good measure.

"More importantly," Daphne said, narrowing her eyes at Harry. "Where did you learn to speak parseltongue?"

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long evening. "I was born like that," he said at last, keeping it simple. "I don't know why, but I've always been able to."

"Always?"

"Before I could even speak English, or Swahili. Human languages I had to learn. Parseltongue though, that was just there. Snakes spoke to me when I was a baby, Kingsley told me. That's how I met Sanna."

"That snake is older than you?" Hermione said sceptically, looking at the little snake.

"She's magical", Harry explained. "Magical snakes live for a very long time."

" _I hear my name human,"_ Sanna interjected.

" _I'm jussst telling them how we met."_

Sanna did the snake equivalent of a laugh. It sounded rather like someone being strangled. " _How we met? You were the only ssssmall human in the land-of-fire-and-earth that could ssspeak properly."_

 _"By properly you mean parseltongue."_

 _"Yes. Properly."_

 _"_ What are you saying?" Ron asked in fascination.

"Apparently I was the only baby in the village that spoke snake, so Sanna decided to adopt me."

Hermione looked intrigued. "Can parseltongue be taught?"

"I doubt it," Harry frowned. Hermione had a look on her face that Harry knew only too well. "No Hermione, " he added quickly. "I can't teach you. I've just got too much to do."

"Hmm," Hermione said, in a way that left no doubt that this wasn't the end of the conversation.

It was getting late, the fire was dying down, and they were running the risk of missing curfew if they stayed any later. The seven rose from their respective seats, and headed for the exit. Various Ravenclaws watched them depart with obvious relief.

" _Sssanna?"_ Harry called when he reached the entrance. " _Are you coming?"_

 _"No,"_ the snake hissed comfortably, and settled herself more firmly against Vladimir. " _Sssee you later."_

Harry shrugged, and left Sanna to it. As they left the common room, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye the little blonde first year, Luna. He had seen the girl wandering around the castle several times, but never found the chance to talk to her. She seemed very shy, and Hermione mentioned she hadn't made any friends among her peer group.

"Luna!" Harry called suddenly.

The girl looked in Harry's direction, and then looked quickly away. She hurried past them and disappeared through a doorway, her blonde plait flapping behind her. Harry frowned. Luna had definitely seen him, she had looked up at his voice. She just didn't seem to want to stop and speak. Putting it down to Ravenclaw eccentricities, Harry followed his friends out of the doorway and gave the matter no further thought.

Neville and Ron peeled off towards the greenhouses, Ron with a forlorn expression. Harry waved them goodbye at the entrance hall, and headed downstairs towards Slytherin. He shivered in spite of himself. The dark, dank walls seemed particularly uninviting at night, and the faint dripping noise that pervaded the dungeons was most unpleasant.

Harry followed the twisting, winding corridors, until he reached what was affectionately known in Slytherin as the Green Zone. It began with Professor Snape's offices, and ended when they reached the Slytherin common room. _I wonder if Ron will be long,_ Harry thought. _Or we'll have trouble getting him up in time for Remus tomorrow._ Harry glanced at Professor Snape's closed door as he passed it.

And then he heard something - something quite apart from the gentle dripping, or the clatter of feet many floors above him.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

" _Come . . . come to me. . . . Let me rip you. . . . Let me tear you. . . . Let me kill you. . . ."_

Harry gave a huge jump and spun around wildly, his wand in his hand. But there was nobody there. The corridor was empty.

" _Homenum Revelio,"_ Harry said quietly. His spell washed over the corridor, but there was nothing there except for him.

Silence. Harry strained his ears to hear the voice again, but there was nothing except the sound of the torch above his head spluttering slightly dazed, Harry turned in a complete circle until he had ascertained that he was quite alone in the corridor. Warily, he crept towards Slytherin, his wand never leaning his hand. But the voice never came again.

It was so late that the Slytherin common room was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory. Ron wasn't back yet. Harry pulled on his pajamas, got into bed, and waited. Half an hour later, Ron arrived, nursing his throat and bringing a strong smell of fertiliser into the dark room.

"My throat's killing me," he groaned, sinking on his bed. "Sprout had us singing bloody lullabies to them, like they're babies! And one of them bit me!"

Ron showed Harry a dark bruise on his arm. "Why are you still awake anyway?" Ron asked after a moment.

Keeping his voice low so as not to wake Stefan, Blaise, Theodore, and Malfoy, Harry told Ron exactly what he had heard.

"And you couldn't see a thing?" said Ron. Harry could see him frowning in the moonlight. "D'you think it was invisible? But I don't get it — even someone invisible would've shown up when you cast your spell."

"I know," said Harry, lying back in his four-poster and staring at the canopy above him. "I don't get it either."

\\\/

October continued, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. The little Ravenclaw Luna, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by an anxious Hermione. The steam pouring from under her blonde hair gave the impression that her head was a thatched roof about to go up in flames.

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Remus Lupin's enthusiasm for regular outdoor training sessions, however, was not dampened. Which was why Harry and Ron were to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to Slytherin house drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

Even aside from the rain and wind it hadn't been a happy practice session. Remus had been trying to teach them a variation of a freezing jinx, and none of them had managed it. Even in the worst weather, Remus refused to train indoors. As he said, they couldn't expect to fight death eaters only when the weather was fair, and if they were accustomed to throwing spells in heavy rain, it would help. None of them were convinced by this explanation.

As Harry and Ron squelched along the deserted corridor, they were silent in their discomfort. Harry was so busy imagining the shower he would have upon his return to Slytherin, that he almost didn't notice when he came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as he was.

Stefan Skorik, the new Russian second year, was staring morosely out of the window, muttering under his breath, "And when you've fetched that Skorik, you can polish my shoes before tomorrow," in a mocking tone. Stefan's black cat Vladimir was winding himself around Stefan's ankles, and gave a _meow_ as they approached.

"Hello Stefan," Harry said pleasantly. Stefan jumped, and turned wildly to see who was talking. When he saw it was Harry, his downturned face fell even further.

"Hello," Stefan said uncomfortably, his eyes shifting.

"How are you?" Harry asked.

"Fine," Stefan mumbled. "Fine."

There was a moment of silence, and Harry wracked his brain for something to say. "Your cat seems very attached to you," he said eventually, looking at Vladimir

"He is," Stefan said fiercely, picking up the little animal and holding him close. Vladimir made no protest, but nuzzled into Stefan's arms contentedly.

"My snake Sanna seems to have made friends with him," Harry commented. "I'm not sure where she is now, or she'd probably have come out to talk to him."

"Cats can't talk to snakes," Stefan said, his dark eyes fixing on Harry, and a furrow appearing on his forehead.

"Sanna can," Harry shrugged, leaning against the wall. "She's an odd snake."

Stefan gave a cough that sounded oddly like " _suits you."_ Harry laughed, pleased. Ron snorted behind Harry

"Maybe," Harry admitted. Stefan grinned suddenly. He had very white, even teeth. His smile came as a sudden flash that lit up his sallow face and transformed him for a split second. For a moment, he looked like any other twelve year old boy.

Stefan hefted Vladimir higher into his arms, still with a trace of a smile on his lips But as the tall boy lifted his cat, his sleeve fell back and Harry caught a glimpse of livid red scars, shocking against his pale skin. They bisected his wrist and disappeared further up his arm Stefan looked up to see Harry staring, and yanked his sleeve down furiously, his face turning beet red.

Harry tried to think of something to say, but words failed him. Stefan had definitely not wanted Harry to see the scars, and it felt churlish to comment on something seen by accident. Besides, Harry was very wet and cold, and Ron was making mournful sort of squelching noises behind him, so he gave it up as a bad job.

"See you later Stefan," he said weakly, and then he and Ron headed back for their much needed shower.

"Mad, isn't he?" Ron said to Harry as they were dressing in the dormitory after their showers.

"Not mad exactly," Harry said thoughtfully, deciding not to mention the scars he had seen. "But something's up. I don't think Malfoy is a very good friend for him. He seems quite unhappy around him."

\\\/

The next morning dawned cool and clear. It was the day before Halloween, and the whole school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

None of this festive spirit had transferred itself to Remus, who was still making them swim in the lake, no matter that the mornings were now freezing cold, dark affairs. The four of them suffered through their morning defense lesson in shivering silence, before Remus finally released them, and they headed back to the castle with chattering teeth, and limbs that had lost all feeling.

By the time they had showered and eaten breakfast, Harry was feeling a great deal more human. Defense lesson was first period, which seemed like a cruel joke to those who had been training at six in the morning. Luckily, Remus seemed to have mellowed slightly over breakfast, and he had them do nothing more strenuous than a flowchart showing the patterns between curses and counter curses. Harry though was having a hard time concentrating. The scene with Stefan yesterday was playing on his mind, and he kept feeling his attention slipping. By the end of class,he had decided to confide in someone.

"Scars, you say?" Hermione said keenly as they headed down to the great hall. Ron had hung back to ask Remus something, so Harry had seized his opportunity.

"Yes, I couldn't see much but they were definitely scars," Harry said reluctantly. Of all the options he had for confidantes, Hermione seemed the best choice. Daphne was too cold, and Ginny too young. Neither Ron nor Neville would have much input.

"Werewolf thing?" Hermione asked, frowning at a pair of first years who were running down the corridor at full speed, giggling madly.

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully. "I don't know. Remus might know, I suppose."

Ron caught up to them, puffing and panting, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "Sorry," he said. "Remus threatened to tell Mad-Eye if I didn't get the freezing jinx right by next week."

All of them winced. Telling Mad-Eye was a threat to be reckoned with.

"I've got Transfiguration next, I'll see you later," Hermione said reluctantly as they came to a junction in the corridor. She hurried off, hoisting her bag full of heavy books over her shoulder, her bushy hair flying behind her.

Harry and Ron headed down to herbology. As they trudged across the damp grass, they saw a huddle of students standing outside the greenhouses. They seemed to be looking at something on the door.

"Harry! Ron!" Neville was striding across the sludgy ground towards them. "Big news," he panted. "Herbology is cancelled - one of the Mandrakes has gone on a killing spree."

"A killing spree?" Ron said, alarmed. "Blimey."

"Only the other Mandrakes," Neville said, gesturing over his shoulder at the greenhouse. "But they're running amok, and Professor Sprout doesn't trust anyone else except her to get them back in their pots alive."

"Bizarre," Harry said, looking over to where Neville was pointing. The rest of the class was dispersing, most of the students slowly making their way up to the castle, grimacing as a light rain began to fall. Harry caught sight of Daphne heading back towards the castle. She didn't seem to have seen them.

"What do you want to do then?" Ron said to Harry.

"Shall we go to Hagrid's?" Harry said. "We haven't seen him in weeks, and goodness knows how Norbert is doing."

"I'd be quite happy to not know how Norbert is doing," Ron muttered. But nonetheless they directed their feet towards the little wooden cabin at the edge of the grounds.

The three of them knocked on the wooden door. Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me — come in, come in — thought you mighta bin Professor Lupin back again —"

Harry, Neville and Ron entered the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid gestured for them to sit down around the large wooden table, and began pulling mugs out of a cupboard. As he busied himself setting an enormous copper kettle on the stove, Neville asked:

"What did Professor Lupin want?"

"I'm not supposed to tell yeh," Hagrid grunted, measuring tea leaves into their cups. He caught Harry's eye, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Oh go on Hagrid," Neville said hopefully.

"I can't tell yeh," Hagrid said reluctantly, settling himself in an enormous patchwork chair that looked as though Hagrid had made it himself. "Professor Lupin said yeh weren't to know." Suddenly Hagrid looked horrified at himself. "An' I wasn' supposed to tell yeh that he said that either," he mumbled.

The kettle began to whistle a high keening note, and Hagrid stood up with a grunt, and plucked it lightly from the fire in his huge hand. As he began to pour boiling water into their cups, they all exchanged glances.

"Hagrid," Ron said casually, as the giant handed him a mug of tea. "Er. Professor Lupin wouldn't be trying to get any...um... _creatures..._ involved in our training would he?"

"I'm sayin' nothin'," Hagrid said firmly. And he refused to be drawn on the subject for the rest of the afternoon.

It was only when the tea had been drunk and the rock cakes refused, that Harry dared to ask the question. "So...How's Norbert doing?"

Immediately Hagrid brightened. "Oh yeh should see him," the giant said, his face lighting up. "He's gotten so big, and he really knows his mummy now! I'm even teaching him to respond to commands."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ron said. He looked a faint, sickly green colour. "Charlie said nobody has ever successfully trained a dragon."

"Pfft." Hagrid snorted, shaking what he thought of what Charlie had said. "Great bloke, your brother," he said. "But needs to think outside the square a bit sometimes."

The three of them avoided meeting each others eyes, and Harry drained the dregs of his tea to postpone speaking. None of them wanted to imagine what thinking outside the square might mean for Hagrid with his pet dragon.

"Is he still in the forest?" Harry asked at last, as Hagrid beamed around at them.

"No," Hagrid shook his head. "He's in a nice little cave above Hogsmeade. He seems to really like it there. Lotsa mice and rats, even though I reckon he wants to be moving onto bigger game sometime soon."

"How lovely," Ron said in a high-pitched voice. "Just lovely."

"You should come an see him," Hagrid said, maternal pride glowing on his whiskery face, looking as though he had come up with a very clever idea.

"We can't," Neville pointed out. "Not if he's in Hogsmeade. We're not allowed to leave the school."

Hagrid frowned for a moment, stumped. Then he seemed to think of something, and brightened. "Leave that to me," he asserted. "I'll send you a message when it's time, an I'll make sure Filch is outta the way an all. Norbert needs to see his family yeh see."

"And we're his family?" Ron asked weakly.

"Oh yeah, I've told him all about yeh," Hagrid said eagerly, beaming around at them all with shining eyes. "I hope yen don' mind. Uncle Harry, Uncle Ron, Aunty Hermione and Uncle Neville."

The three of them met each others eyes silently. There seemed to be nothing at all they could say to that.

As they walked back to the castle through the thickening mist, their pockets laden with the rock cakes they had been too polite to refuse, Ron was adamant that Hagrid was going to get himself killed.

"Charlie knows about Dragons," Ron insisted. "And I asked him about Norwegian Ridgebacks in a letter over the summer."

"What did he say?" Harry asked curiously, shaking a wet leaf out of his dreadlocks.

"They're the most vicious breed in existence," Ron said bluntly.

"Perfect," muttered Neville.

"Don't worry," Harry said comfortingly. "There's no way Hagrid will find a way past Filch."

But they were proven wrong that very evening. That dinnertime they were sitting together at the Gryffindor table. Colin had eagerly placed himself next to them, and the Weasley twins were nearby making a great deal of noise. When they wanted to discuss anything private they always headed for the Gryffindors. The Slytherin table was a nest of spying and overheard conversations. The Gryffindors, by comparison, were loud and unconcerned with their peers.

The letter arrived attached to Vapour's leg, and she fluttered down from the ceiling, spraying them all with water from her wings. The ceiling of the great hall was grey and stormy, and clouds swirled angrily above their heads.

"It's from Hagrid," Harry said in an undertone, detaching the letter from the owl. Vapour leaned forward and snatched one of Harry's sausages in her beak, before taking to the air and vanishing.

"What does Hagrid want?" Hermione raised curiously. Neville filled her in on the events of the afternoon, while Harry slit open the letter.

 _Dear Harry_

 _I've found a way for you to visit Norbert. Meet me at the cabin tomorrow night after your last lesson Everyone will be at the feast and we can be back before it's over._

 _Hagrid._

"You have to be _kidding_ me," Ron said blankly. "Miss the Halloween feast to visit his bloody dragon?"

"What's this?" Hermione said, leaning forward warily.

Harry explained, while Ron and Neville stared at Hagrid's note as though it was about leap up and bite them. Hermione looked slightly shellshocked.

"Hagrid wants us to sneak out at night to visit Norbert in Hogsmeade?" Hermione squeaked.

"It might be useful though," Harry said thoughtfully, chasing peas around his plate with a fork. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were eying Hermione suspiciously, so Harry lowered his voice. "Remember what Remus said? Sirius is staying in Hogsmeade. This might be a chance to tell him about the voice I heard, see if he knows anything about it."

"Why don't you tell Remus? Or Kingsley or Mad-Eye?" Hermione frowned.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. It was hard to explain. Harry was well aware that he had lived a relatively charmed life. Between Kingsley's family, and spending time in Britain training with Mad-Eye, life had never been boring. But how could he explain that sometimes he wanted to be seen as just Harry? Not a weapon to be used the way Mad-Eye and Remus sometimes acted, or someone to be protected and coddled the way Kingsley did. Just a normal boy.

Harry never felt that Sirius had an agenda when he spoke to him. Sirius was fun, and treated Harry with respect, particularly after Harry's role in saving him. Not to mention, Sirius had grown up around the dark arts, and, aside from Mad-Eye, was the most likely to know what the voice might have been.

"I'm going tomorrow," Harry said, suddenly making his mind up. "I want to see Sirius, and I suppose I can put up with a bloody dragon in order to do it."

"I'm coming too," Ron said immediately, although he looked pale.

"Me too," Neville said determinedly.

Hermione looked at the three of them for a moment, and huffed impatiently. "Oh alright," she muttered. "I suppose someone has to make sure you're not all killed."

"Tomorrow it is then," Harry grinned at Hermione. "Dragons, escaped convicts, and sneaking out of school. What a Halloween it's going to be!"

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**

 **P.S. Thanks to those who offered to beta this story. I'm posting this right before I head out now, but will respond later.**


	28. Chapter 28

**My son is doing much better, thanks for the kind words and understanding.**

 **Year Two**

 **Chapter Ten**

 **\\\/**

Harry thought he was getting rather used to sneaking out of school.

Halloween had dawned cool and clear, the nicest day they'd had for weeks. By the time they finished their training with Remus, the sun was rising over the lake, sending inviting streaks of orange across the water. Remus had finally stopped making them swim in the lake when it became obvious that they would be swimming in the dark, and reluctantly allowed them to jog instead to warm up.

As they headed up to the castle for hot showers, they saw Hagrid up early in his vegetable garden, harvesting his enormous pumpkins for the feast that night. They waved, and Hagrid waved back, giving them an enormous wink that, luckily, Remus didn't notice.

"He's mad," Neville muttered. "I think he's actually looking forwards to this."

"I can't believe we're going to miss the feast," Ron said mournfully, scuffing his feet in the grass.

The whole school was buzzing with excitement, and Harry was rather regretting his rash decision to go and see Sirius and Norbert. But Hermione said Harry couldn't possibly go back on his word now.

"A promise is a promise," Hermione reminded Harry sternly.

Harry had already owled Sirius about it, and his godfather had agreed to meet them just outside of Hogsmeade. Harry was nervous about revealing the existence of Sirius to Hagrid, but felt there was no other choice.

"Mad-Eye and Kingsley would be furious if they knew though," Harry confided to his friends. "After all, they put Hagrid under a memory charm rather than tell him the truth about how I ended up with them."

"Do you think that was the right thing to do?" Neville asked seriously. They all knew Neville was sensitive about spells that affected the mind.

"Honestly no," Harry said reluctantly. "Kingsley told me it was Mad-Eye that obliviated Hagrid, and it was a split second decision. They were under a lot of pressure, but I think they could have shown Hagrid a bit more trust. He's a good bloke."

"Are you going to tell him?" Hermione asked curiously.

"No," Harry said after a moment. "It's not my story to tell. Mad-Eye or Kingsley would have to do it - they're the only ones that were there. But I think we can trust him with Sirius."

"Besides, we've kept his secret about the dragon," Ron pointed out. "So he can keep ours."

So at seven o'clock, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the front doors.

The grounds were very dark. The four of them walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. They were under Harry's cloak, although it was very difficult to fit four of them underneath. As Harry looked up at the night sky, still clear and star-studded, he noticed that the moon was almost full, and he wondered whether Stefan and Remus would be spending the full moon together. He was still thinking about it as he knocked on Hagrid's front door.

"You there?" Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.

"Yeah, " said Harry, pulling the cloak off them. They waited as Hagrid shut the door of the cabin behind him, and locked it with an oversized key. Fang whined mournfully from inside.

"Can' bring him," Hagrid said quietly. "Norbert tried to eat him last time. Can yeh believe it?"

Harry could indeed believe it, but decided this was not a wise moment to say so. There was an air of enormous excitement about Hagrid. He was wearing a thick brown suit made of some shiny kind of leather, and had tied his hair in a wild knot at the back of his head.

"Is that a fireproof suit Hagrid?" Ron asked, sounding awed.

"Belonged to an old friend," Hagrid said proudly, smoothing it down.

"Listen Hagrid, if anyone catches us we'll be in so much trouble," Hermione began in a high pitched voice. But Hagrid wasn't listening; he was striding off into the night. The four of them exchanged glances hurried to follow. Hagrid led them to the front gates, where he unlocked them with a very old and rusty looking key. As the padlock opened with a _click_ , the gates creaked open slowly.

They all froze nervously as the sound echoed into the night, and nobody spoke or moved. When the sound died away, they scurried quickly out of the gates, and waited as Hagrid locked them behind them. It made it much more real, being outside the safety of the castle walls, Harry thought. The road to Hogsmeade was dark, and Harry wished they had a couple of Thestrals to fly them there in seconds.

"Come on," Hagrid said gruffly, and they directed their feet down towards the twinkling lights of the Wizarding village in the distance.

It was a cold night, but they warmed up quickly trying to keep up with Hagrid's enormous steps. By the time they reached Hogsmeade they were breathless and panting.

They made their way up the silent and empty High Street, past a pub called the Three Broomsticks that was still lit up, and out toward the edge of the village. Harry had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane.

Waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog.

"Hello laddie," Hagrid said gruffly, reaching out to pat the dog. "Don't you have owners to get back to?"

The dog bared its teeth into an unmistakable grin. The next moment, it was shooting upwards, and a second later Sirius Black was standing in front of them.

Sirius was wearing black robes; the same make as the ones worn by the four. His black hair was longer than it had been when they had said goodbye to him in Uganda, and he wore it tied back in a short ponytail. He was thinner than he had been, but not skeletal. Remus had clearly been keeping him fed.

Hagrid jumped backwards with an oath, and pulled out his pink umbrella. He pointed the end at Sirius, and positioned himself between the four kids and the convict.

"Stay back!" Hagrid hissed. "Get help! I'll hold him off."

Sirius laughed, a musical pealing sound. "You could have warned him," he said easily.

"Hagrid," Harry said, laying a hand on Hagrid's arm. "Sirius is alright. He's our friend."

"He's murderin' scum," Hagrid said fiercely steadying the umbrella. "I'm warnin' you Black. Get away from these kids."

"Harry's telling the truth," Sirius said, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed, and walking towards them. "It was Harry that broke me out of Azkaban last year."

"Harry?" Hagrid said, turning to stare, dumfounded.

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I wasn't sure you'd bring us if you knew," he said. "But yeah. Mad-Eye helped, but we broke Sirius out. He's innocent, completely innocent."

"I dunno how you tricked them Black," Hagrid began, but Sirius interrupted him.

"It was Peter Pettigrew," Sirius said, glancing at his watch. "Pettigrew betrayed the Potter's, blew up the street, faked his death and escaped. He's on the run now."

Hagrid stared, and then swayed alarmingly. All four of them rushed to prop him up, and Hagrid gradually regained his balance, staring at Sirius. "Does Dumbledore know 'bout this?" Hagrid asked uncertainly.

"I'm not sure," Harry said thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure he knows Sirius is innocent, and he might even suspect that we broke him out. But he doesn't know Sirius is here, and it needs to stay that way."

"Why?" Hagrid asked, looking back in the direction of Hogwarts. The castle was lit up with bright lights, and Harry felt a momentary pang for the feast that was taking place. His stomach gurgled in agreement.

"Because we don't know if Dumbledore can be trusted," Sirius said gently, interpreting the look on Hagrid's face correctly. "Of course, we hope he can. But for now, we need to keep it quiet."

Hagrid seemed to need a moment to think about this. He sat down heavily on the stile, which creaked alarmingly beneath him. His brow furrowed, and he stared at the distant Hogwarts thoughtfully. The other five waited patiently. "Alrigh'," Hagrid said eventually, looking at Sirius warily. "I won't say nothin'. But I don' like it."

"Thanks Hagrid," Harry said with relief. "Don't worry. We're trying to get Sirius cleared - you won't have to keep it a secret for too long."

"Alright?" Sirius said, cracking a grin. "Shall we go see this dragon then?"

They climbed over the stile, and Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione were soon out of breath. They followed Hagrid higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Hagrid's burly form, sweating in spite of the evening chill, the shoulder straps of Harry's bag cutting into his shoulders. Then, at last, Hagrid stopped. They had reached some kind of plateau on the top of the mountain. In front of them was a thick copse of trees.

Hagrid motioned to them to follow, and they began to make their way around the edge of the trees. Then - when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the trees that the castle and Hogsmeade were out of sight - Harry heard something. There was a growling up ahead. Then came a deafening, earsplitting roar.

Hagrid led the four of them and Sirius around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry thought for a moment he was looking at bonfires. Then his mouth fell open. Norbert had grown. Norbert had grown considerably.

For a half grown dragon, Hagrid's baby was enormous. The vicious looking dragon was rearing onto his hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting - torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from his open, fanged mouth, twenty feet above the ground on his outstretched neck. Norbert snapped and snarled in their direction, tugging on chains connected to leather straps around his limbs.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione whispered. Neville moaned piteously, and began to retreat.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid said mistily, gazing up at the gigantic black dragon. Norbert snarled again, and shot a jet of flame in their direction.

"Bloody hell Hagrid, are you _mad?"_ Sirius said, sounding stunned. "What if he escapes? Those chains don't look thick enough to last when he gets older. You know how big dragons get, don't you?"

"He'll be fine," Hagrid said airily, pulling his rucksack off his shoulder. Opening it, he pulled out what looked like the haunch of a zebra. He hurled it into the enclosure, and Norbert fell upon it. The snapping and crunching as he tore apart the meat was quite disconcerting, and Ron seemed to be trying to retreat as surreptitiously as he could.

"Magical chains," Hagrid continued, watching Norbert fondly. "Bought 'em off a chap in Knockturn Alley. Used to secure magical creatures."

"Isn't it a bit cruel?" Hermione asked uncertainly. Now Norbert was distracted, and no longer shooting flames in their direction, she looked fascinated. Hermione stood on her tip toes, and peered into the enclosure.

"That's why they're magic," Hagrid explained. "The chains only appear when a human is within a mile of the creature. The rest of the time they disappear, so Norbert can hunt."

"Perfect," Harry said dryly. Hagrid didn't seem to register his sarcasm, and continued gazing mistily into the enclosure.

"Norbert," Hagrid said coaxingly. "Won't you come and say hello to Aunty Hermione?"

"Oh no, no I really don't think he should," Hermione stuttered, jumping back from the enclosure immediately. "No, no really he's fine where he is."

Hagrid wasn't listening. He was unchaining a wooden gate on the side of the enclosure. As it creaked open towards them, Harry, Ron and Neville all took several steps backwards. Sirius had transformed into a dog, and the black shaggy animal stepped forwards deliberatly, placing itself between the children and the door.

"Norbert," Hagrid shouted, stepping towards the fearsome dragon. "It's mummy! I've brought some friends teh see yeh."

The black beast turned towards Hagrid. It fixed an enormous fiery eye on him. Slowly, calmly, the eye blinked. Then Norbert roared, throwing the full weight of his adolescent voice into the throaty cry. It wasn't as terrifying as a fully grown dragon perhaps, but quite scary enough for all present. Only Hagrid didn't seem peturbed.

"Listen to him, ain't he beautiful?" Hagrid beamed, stretching out a hand to pat Norbert on the spiky snout.

"Hagrid no!" Ron shouted, but it was too late. Hagrid was already stroking the dragon. As they stared, dumfounded, Norbert twisted his head towards Hagrid and bumped the giant gently on the shoulder with his nose, in what was clearly intended to be a gesture of affection. Hagrid stumbled several feet backwards before recovering himself.

"Now now little 'un," Hagrid chortled. "Remember Mummy isn't as big as you." A deep rumbling noise came from Norbert's chest, like thunder in a hurricane.

"Is he... _purring?_ " Ron said weakly. Norbert butted Hagrid again, unmistakeably playfully.

"Good boy," Hagrid praised, scratching the dragon behind the ears. Sirius transformed back into a man in order to get a closer look. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione stared blankly, watching the bizarre scene unfold in front of him.

"This is mental," Ron said under his breath to Harry.

"Hagrid certainly is good with animals," Neville commented.

"That's not an animal. That's a monster!" Ron argued.

"That's not a monster," Harry chuckled. "Look."

They all looked. Norbert had rolled onto his back and was allowing Hagrid to tickle his enormous scaled belly. The dragon's eyes had closed to slits, and his tail was flicking backwards and forwards as he rumbled contentedly. Occasional jets of flame spurted from his nostrils as he breathed out. Norbert seemed to be going to sleep. The abandoned haunch of zebra was half underneath him, and Harry supposed he would save it for a snack later. The thought of Norbert hunting for his own food was not a pleasant one.

"Amazing," Hermione breathed.

"Unbelievable," Sirius added, coming to stand with them. "I've never heard of a dragon bonding with a human before."

"Bonding?" Neville squeaked.

"That's the only explanation," Sirius said, gesturing at the scene in front of them. "The dragon must have bonded to Hagrid. Otherwise it would have eaten him by now."

"That's revolting," Hermione said, looking aghast.

"What do you...? Oh no! Not mate bonding." Sirius cracked up laughing, doubling over clutching his knees.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. "What?" Harry muttered to Ron. "What bonding?"

"Mate bonding is what dragons do," Ron explained. "When they find their mate. Apart from their children, it's the only dragon they won't kill. The bond has to be magical, or the whole species would have died out by now."

"But this is different," Sirius said, straightening up and turning to the boys. "This looks more like imprinting to me. Norbert really believes Hagrid is his mother."

All of them looked towards the enclosure again. Norbert seemed to have fallen asleep under Hagrid's gentle ministrations, and his purrs had turned to snores. Stretched out, he looked like an enormous black spiky umbrella, with a neck and tail. Hagrid was leaning against the dragon's side, rubbing circles on his belly and humming a lullaby. Looking up, Hagrid gave them the thumbs up and rose to his feet.

"Sorry I didn' get to introduce yeh," Hagrid said regretfully, as he locked the enclosure door behind him. "Norbert didn't seem in the right mood teh meet strangers tonight."

"Oh that's quite alright," Hermione said in a high pitched voice, shooting a nervous look at the sleeping dragon. "Quite alright. We didn't mind at all, did we?"

The other four shook their heads vigorously. "Not at all," they agreed.

Hagrid looked very disappointed, but took them at their word. After picking up his backpack, he nodded to them, and pocketed the key to the enclosure. "We'd better get you back to school then," he said gruffly. "An' you Black. Where are yeh staying?"

"In a cave nearby actually," Sirius said, falling into step beside Harry as they headed back around the forest. "But I'll walk you all back to Hogsmeade."

Hagrid grunted, but didn't seem to have any reply. Still, his attitude had thawed considerably since seeing the dragon. Norbert appeared to have put Hagrid in a very good mood. After a few moments, he began to hum a song as they traversed down the mountain.

"You alright Harry?" Sirius said softly, slowing his steps so they fell back behind the others. Hermione glanced at them, and chivvied Ron and Neville ahead to give them privacy.

"I'm alright," Harry said. "But what about you? I can't believe you're back in the country."

"I had to," Sirius admitted. "Once I heard what had happened with the house elf. Kingsley told me, and I knew I had to be close in case anything happened."

"You're living in a cave though," Harry protested. "It isn't right."

"I'm fine Harry, really," Sirius smiled. "Remus is taking good care of me. He visits every weekend, and sends everything I might need."

Harry peered at Sirius suspiciously. His godfather's tone changed slightly, and even under the darkness Harry thought he saw a faint blush on Sirius's cheeks.

"As long as you're alright," Harry said, narrowing his eyes, and deciding to do a little digging on his own time.

"I am. Really," Sirius promised. Then he changed the subject. "So anyway, what's been happening this year? Any news?"

Harry hesitated. Where to begin? "Well," he began. Then it all came out in a rush. The voice in the corridor, the curious case of Stefan Skorik, the scars, quidditch tryouts, everything. Sirius listened patiently, and didn't interrupt Harry once. When Harry finally came to a natural stop, Sirius let out a breath.

"Phew kiddo," he said. "You didn't want an easy life did you?"

Harry laughed, suddenly feeling lighter for having spoken about the worries that had been plaguing him. He found himself very glad they had skipped the Halloween feast to come and see Norbert. "Not easy, no," he admitted. "But I wish things would just make sense."

"Do you think this voice might be the danger the house elf warned you about?" Sirius asked, his face creasing into a frown.

"I have no idea. I seem to remember the Stefan kid saying something at the beginning of the year about the signs fortelling his arrival here, but it was a few months ago."

"You said he's part centaur didn't you?"

"Apparently," Harry grimaced. "And let's not get into the mechanics of it. Believe me, Ron's already done it."

"I can imagine," Sirius shuddered. They looked at their feet for a moment. It would be easy to lose their footing down the rocky mountain. Spread out ahead of them were the twinkling lights of Hogsmeade - and beyond that, the castle itself.

"So the way I see it," Sirius said at last. "Is that all you can do for this Stefan boy is keep an eye out. You said he's spending too much time with Malfoy?"

"Malfoy treats him like a slave," Harry said. "I don't know why Stefan puts up with it. He's a werewolf - he could take Malfoy down any day."

"He's from Durmstrang, isn't he?" Sirius asked slowly.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, looking at Sirius quizzically.

"Do you know much about Durmstrang?" Sirius asked Harry. There was something indecipherable in his voice that gave Harry pause.

"No, I don't," Harry admitted.

"I'm not sure how much I should say.. " Sirius said slowly. "You couldn't tell Remus. He must never find out about this, it would destroy him."

"What is it?" Harry asked. Sirius looked at Harry for a long moment, and seemed to come to a decision.

"Not a word to Remus," Sirius warned.

"Not a word," Harry promised.

"Well, you know I spent time in Azkaban," Sirius began slowly. Harry nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Most of the deatheaters attend Durmstrang, as so do their children. It's only the British families like the Malfoy's, the Black's, the Notts and so on, who use Hogwarts."

"Yes, I learnt about that when I was training with Mad-Eye," Harry confirmed. "The Lestranges have a kid at Durmstrang don't they?"

"I think so," Sirius frowned. "A daughter, I think. But that's not the point. What I mean is that from listening to the other deatheaters, I heard a lot about Durmstrang."

"Alright," Harry said. "But what does that have to do with Stefan?"

"How does Stefan do in his lessons?" Sirius asked suddenly. Harry was startled by the sudden change of topic.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Not great, I don't think."

"He doesn't do very well," Hermione said, turning around. "Sorry," she added, blushing. "I wasn't listening in on your conversation, I just heard Stefan's name..."

"No worries Hermione," Sirius said easily. "That's what I expected to hear."

"It's strange though," Hermione said, blushing even more furiously. "Because he's not stupid. Not stupid at all."

"Strange," Harry commented. He'd never paid that much attention before.

"I can explain it, I think," Sirius grimaced. "Do either of you know anything about how werewolves are treated in Scandinavia?"

Harry shook his head, and even Hermione looked stumped. Sirius nodded. "It's not nicely," he said quietly. "There's a lot of wild werewolves in Norway, which have given them a terrible reputation over the years. The wild wolves prey on the young, and rampage through villages, biting at random."

"And that happened to Stefan?" Hermione breathed, looking horrified.

"No idea," Sirius shrugged. "But governments prey on fear. And a few decades back, werewolves were banned from holding any kind of position in Norwegian society." Ignoring Hermione's furious gasp, Sirius continued. "They were also banned from attending schools, as anything other than test subjects or servants."

"Test subjects?" Harry said weakly.

"Test subjects," Sirius confirmed. "For lessons on dark creatures. Rodolpohus and Rabastan Lestrange used to reminisce about their sixth year lessons on werewolves quite often, actually. There was a female werewolf, and I believe they did some quite...horrible...things to her. Nobody stopped them."

Harry felt sick. Suddenly he knew why Sirius hadn't wanted them to tell Remus about anything. "So you think he wasn't actually a student at Durmstrang?" Harry said weakly.

"I'm just saying it's possible," Sirius said wearily. "There are some terrible things in the world."

They walked in silence for a little while, Harry processing all he had heard. Hermione was very quiet too, and Harry knew she just be very upset. She had been becoming quite enamoured with Stefan.

"That voice Harry," Sirius said after a moment. "If you hear it again, don't follow it. Just go straight to Remus."

"I will," Harry promised.

They said goodbye to Sirius at the stile where they had met him. Hagrid looked on disapprovingly as Harry hugged his godfather goodbye, and even Ron, Hermione and Neville said goodbye warmly.

"I'll see you again soon," Harry promised.

"Look after yourself kiddo," Sirius smiled. "Say hello to Remus for me."

"Come on," Hagrid growled. "Need to get back to the castle before the feast is over."

Harry waved goodbye to Sirius, and then they all directed their feet towards Hogwarts. The walk back to the castle seemed much longer than the walk down had been, and the four children dragged their feet as they walked up the narrow road. Harry thought perhaps a dragon might fly them back even fast than a Thestral. They left Hagrid at the door to his cabin. Once Sirius was out of sight, Hagrid had regained his usual good humour, and seemed under the impression that they were all delighted with their evening with Norbert.

They thanked Hagrid insincerely for the trip, and walked back up to the castle. "Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall. And then Harry heard it.

" _. . . rip . . . tear . . . kill . . ."_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in the stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with  
all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what're you — ?"

"It's that voice again — shut up a minute —"

" _. . . so hungry . . . for so long . . ." i_

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and Ron, Neville and Hermione froze, watching him.

" _. . . kill . . . time to kill . . ."_

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away — moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward? Was it a phantom, to whom stone ceilings didn't matter?

 _Go straight to Remus,_ Sirius had said. But there might not be any time - Remus would be at the feast, and how could he explain what he had heard in front of all the other teachers?

"Neville, can you get Remus?" Harry said quickly. "Please, we need him. No time to waste."

Neville looked bewildered, but it was a mark of the trust he had for Harry that he left quickly and without question. "Come on," Harry said quickly to Ron and Hermione. "This way!" He began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron and Hermione clattering behind him.

"Harry, what're we —"

"SHH!"

Harry strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: ". . . _I smell blood. . . . I SMELL BLOOD!"_ His stomach lurched —

"We need to hurry," Harry said, hoping against hope that Neville would get Remus quickly. Ignoring Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps — Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything. . . ."

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor. "Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"What's that thing — hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped — there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and Ron leapt backward with a splash.

Vladimir, Stefan's black cat, was hanging by his tail from a torch bracket. He was stiff as a board, his eyes wide and staring.

"No," Hermione whispered. " _No._ "

Harry felt scales sliding over his wrist. Sanna poked her head out of his sleeve, and her eyes fixed on the hanging cat instantly. Harry flinched as she tightened agonisingly around his wrist, and hissed furiously.

" _Moussse-hunt-friend. Who hasss done thisss to you?"_

 _"Don't look Sssanna,"_ Harry said softly, trying to cover his snakes eyes. " _He'sss gone. I'm sssorry."_

 _"No,"_ Sanna hissed, and the pain in her voice was such that Harry felt his heart tighten. " _No, pleassse, no."_

 _"I'm sssorry,"_ Harry said. He looked wildly around for the culprit, but there was no-one there. Like the first time, the corridor was empty.

"Harry we need to get out of here," Ron said, his face ashen. "We do not want to get found here."

Before they could move, there was a clattering of footsteps. Suddenly Neville burst through the door, followed quickly by Remus. Both of them were out of breath, and looked as though they had run the whole way there. Neville's round face was shining with sweat, and as he caught sight of the cat, his eyes grew wide.

"Harry," Remus said, breathing heavily. "Neville said you needed help. What -" Remus fell silent. He had just spotted the black cat hanging from the torch bracket. "Oh no," he said, coming to a halt. "Oh no. We need to get out of here _now."_

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends. The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione stood in the middle of the corridor with Remus, staring back at the crowds.

Silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods! Just like the dumb cat."

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat. Harry wasn't looking at him though. His gaze was fixed on the white face of Stefan Skorik, who was pushing his way through the crowd.

Somehow, Stefan managed to force his way to the front of the crowd. His eyes were fixed on the hanging cat, although he couldn't possibly make it out from so far away. Then he broke through the crowd, and stumbled forward. Harry watched the terrible moment when Stefan saw just what was hanging in front of him. Stefan paused, and then a horrible scream burst through his throat, coming from somewhere deep inside his chest. He fell to his knees, his eyes fixed on his immobile pet. In the crowd, Harry saw Daphne and Ginny, their eyes wide and appalled.

"It was only a stupid cat," Draco Malfoy said dismissively. "Come on Skorik, let's go."

A dreadful expression came over Stefan's face, and he slowly rose to his feet. He said nothing, but turned towards Malfoy, as though to follow him. Remus took a step forward, but someone else got there first.

Hermione strode so fast past Harry she was almost a blur. She marched straight up to where Malfoy was standing, and without a word or preamble, punched him in the face as hard as she could. Harry stared, dumbstruck. Malfoy collapsed with a howl, clutching his face as blood spurted between his fingers. Hermione was breathing hard, and flexed her fingers. She looked extremely pleased with herself.

"Take that," she hissed. "You filthy bullying -"

" _Miss Granger_!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, Neville, Remus and  
Hermione and detached Vladimir from the torch bracket. "Come with me, Miss Granger," he said to Hermione. "You, too, Mr. Potter  
Mr. Weasley, Mr Longbottom. Mr - ah."

They all looked around. But in the confusion, Stefan had vanished.

"Very well," Dumbledore said calmly. "If the four of you would follow me please."

The silent crowd parted to let them pass.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **-Cas**


	29. Chapter 29

**Credit must be given where due - inspiration for this chapter came largely from Cywscross's amazing story C'est La Vie, and the character of Stefan was originally inspired by Orion. He was created out of my disappointment when the story was discontinued, but other than the initial few interactions such as this chapter, there will be no further resemblance.**

 **Year Two**

 **Chapter Eleven**

 **\\\/**

They walked in silence. Dumbledore led the way, gently holding the body of Vladimir. There was no sign of Stefan anywhere, as they walked through the school. Eventually Harry realised they must be heading for Dumbledore's office, and indeed they were. The spiral staircase that rose of its own accord drew gasps from Ron and Neville, but they stifled them quickly, as though realising it wasn't appropriate for the situation.

As they entered Dumbledore's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the headmasters and headmistresses in the pictures standing up and craning their necks to get a better view. Professor Mcgonagall lit the candles on his Dumbledore's desk and stood back.

Dumbledore laid Vladimir on the polished surface and began to examine him. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into  
chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Vladimir's fur. He was looking at him closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile.

The silence was held by a thread of tension that seemed to be running through all of them as Dumbledore examined the cat.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Vladimir with his wand but nothing happened: He continued to look as though he had been recently stuffed.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "He's not dead," he said softly.

"Not dead?" Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"But why's he all — all stiff and frozen?" Ron blurted, and then looked as though he wished he hadn't spoken.

"He has been Petrified," said Dumbledore "But how, I cannot say. . . ."

"I heard a voice," Harry broke in. He had wanted to talk to Remus privately, but had to make sure they weren't implicated in the attack. "That's why we were there. I was following the voice."

"A voice?" Professor Snape said, looking at Harry with a strange expression. "What kind of voice."

"It sounded like it was moving through the walls," Harry said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "It said it was going to kill someone."

Harry had never been more glad for his truce with Professor Snape, or he was sure the man would have sneered at his poor explanation. As it was, the potions master simply raised an eyebrow, and Harry suspected he was saving his real interrogation for later.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Remus from the shadows. "Harry, Ron and Hermione may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not to mention, Neville came straight to fetch me."

"But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?" Professor McGonagall interjected, fixing Harry with a severe expression.

"Er," Harry said awkwardly, not sure about how to answer without getting Hagrid in a great deal of trouble.

"We were with Hagrid," Hermione broke in. Harry, Ron and Neville gaped at her. Two spots of pink appeared high on Hermione's cheekbones, but she didn't look at the boys as she spoke. "We went to his cabin for dinner," she lied. "Hagrid invited us because he had some..um...Halloween pumpkins left, and didn't want them to go to waste."

The whole room stared at Hermione incredulously. Professor McGonagall looked as though she would very much like to say something, but Professor Dumbledore got there first.

"Well that settles it," Dumbledore said cheerfully. Harry stared at the headmaster. He could have sworn the headmaster winked at him, and wondered how much Dumbledore knew about Norbert's illegal presence.

"But what about Vladimir?" Hermione asked, looking at the sad bundle of black fur.

"We will be able to cure him," Professor Snape said, nodding at Hermione. "I believe it was Mr Potter here that arranged for the delivery of some full-sized Mandrakes a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, we're studying them for a herbology project," Neville confirmed, gesturing to himself and Ron.

"Excellent. Do you have any idea when they might reach an appropriate maturity for use in potions?" Snape asked. Harry was surprised to see him speak so politely to Neville, and the boy seemed to have the same idea, as he shot Snape a bewildered expression.

"A week, if we accelerate their growth," Neville said, and Ron nodded.

"I'll ask Susan for some help," Ron agreed.

"Very well," Snape said, his eyes glittering. "The draught should be ready within a week."

Hermione looked relieved, and Harry knew she was thinking about Stefan, who must surely think his cat was dead by now. His heart twisted with sympathy for the lonely boy who had just lost his only friend. Sanna too would be relieved to hear Vladimir would survive. There was a pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione. They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they reached the point where Hermione and Neville would part ways with them, Hermione turned to them. There was something desperate in her gaze, Harry thought.

"Please make sure Stefan is okay," Hermione said to Harry and Ron. "Please. He doesn't have anyone else."

"We'll do our best," Harry promised. A clock chimed somewhere, reminding them of the time. They parted ways quietly, without any other words.

Harry and Ron walked back to Slytherin slowly, Harry mulling over the events of the evening. When they arrived in the common room, Ginny and Daphne were sitting in the armchairs by the fire. Ginny was asleep, the fire casting shadows on her pale tired face. Daphne was alert, and sat up straight as soon as they entered the room.

"What happened?" Daphne demanded, as soon as the wall reappeared behind them.

"Petrified," Harry said heavily. "The cat was petrified. Nobody knows how."

"Petrified?" Ginny said, waking up with a start. "Vladimir is still alive?"

"Yes," Harry said heavily. "I heard some kind of voice too, but nobody else did, so we're a bit lost."

"Poor Stefan," Ginny said with feeling. Harry knew she was a great animal lover.

"I know," Harry said, and yawned heavily. "We need to go to bed," he said. "We can talk more tomorrow."

But as Harry fell asleep, he wasn't thinking of Vladimir, or Dumbledore, or even Hagrid, Norbert or Sirius. Instead, all his thoughts were occupied by the boy behind the drawn curtains, and the faint sobbing he thought he heard continue through the night.

\\\/

Professor Snape informed Stefan the next day that his cat had not, in fact been killed. Vladimir resided now in a warm, comfortable corner of Hagrid's hut, looking for all the world like a stuffed cat until they could restore him.

Harry watched Stefan for the next week - during which the Mandrakes developed and matured on their accelerated growth program. The full moon fell during this time, and Harry wished he could have helped Stefan and Remus somehow. He had learned that both werewolves were kept very far away from one another during this time, as they could potentially kill each other during their transformation.

Harry was looking to make sure Stefan was alright, but looking made him discover some things he hadn't expected. Harry wasn't sure how he had missed it for so long, but now he was looking it was pretty hard to miss.

It wasn't just Draco Malfoy that was treating Stefan like a house elf. It was all of them - Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. For some reason Harry couldn't explain, Stefan seemed content to follow the group of Slytherins around. But he wasn't part of them. There was a line between them that Malfoy had adeptly drawn, and the blonde boy seemed content to encourage the other students to act in the same manner.

And Stefan barely spoke. Occasionally Malfoy would tell him to do something, and the boy would do it, but his face was empty and blank, as though he wasn't even there. Harry couldn't see any of the ferocity of a werewolf in the teen at all, although he knew it had to be there.

Stefan had survived his family, the werewolf attack and Durmstrang already. There was no way that cold indifference was all there was to him. Harry had seen a spark in him during their one and only conversation about Vladimir.

So if Stefan was hiding, then Harry - and no doubt Hermione - would simply have to do something about it. Perhaps it was none of his business, but Harry was getting good at involving himself in things that were none of his business.

\\\/

"What do you want Potter?"

Draco Malfoy stared in disbelief as Harry and Hermione crossed the hall towards him. Harry ignored Malfoy entirely, and made a beeline for Stefan Skorik. The pale boy was sitting next to Malfoy, but there was a clear area of space on either side of him. Harry had caught Malfoy telling people Stefan was bad luck after his cat had been attacked, and he was being avoided more than ever.

Harry smiled carelessly at the fuming Malfoy heir as he settled besides a frozen Stefan at the Slytherin table. "Eating Malfoy," Harry said, as Hermione sat on the other side of Stefan, and began pulling food towards her.

Dead silence descended. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed even the teachers were watching. Further down the table, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were staring in abject disbelief. Ron, Neville, Ginny and Daphne were watching from the Gryffindor table, well out of the firing range.

Across the hall, some of the students from the other houses had fallen silent as well. Harry was well-known for provoking Malfoy, and people seemed to be settling in for a show.

"Pies are good today," Harry commented to Hermione, when the great hall remained remarkably chatter-free. There was a glint in Hermione's eye that made Harry smile. It reminded Harry of the incident with the vampire - except this time Hermione's fire was directed in a more appropriate direction.

"Go away Potter, and get rid of the mudblood," Malfoy finally managed to bite out, clenching his hands into fists.

"Why?" Harry tilted his head, feigning ignorance. "There's a free spot here. And you shouldn't call people names, you know. You might end up having another _nasty_ little accident."

"You're not welcome here," Malfoy hissed, heedless of the audience they were attracting. The Slytherins were watching the interplay avidly.

"Can't make me leave," Harry countered mildly.

"She's a Ravenclaw. She shouldn't be here," Pansy interjected, leaning across the table with an ugly expression. Hermione laughed.

"There _are_ no rules on other houses sitting with each other," Hermione said witheringly to Pansy.

"I despise you," Malfoy said to Harry, his voice cold.

"I feel the same way about you," Harry said, nodding placidly and cutting into his pie.

"Then _what_ do you want?"

Harry frowned, before sliding his gaze over to the boy beside him. Stefan was staring unblinkingly at the far end of the hall. "You can't tell? Gosh, you must be even more stupid than I thought. I'm eating with Stefan, of course."

Malfoy stared at him incredulously, before a sneer twisted his mouth. "Yeah? You feeling sorry for killing his cat?"

"Vladimir is alive," Hermione said coldly to Malfoy. "As you'd know if you'd bothered to find out."

"And I _feel_ like eating lunch with Stefan," Harry added.

Malfoy scoffed, his attention flickering over to Stefan. "Skorik. Get rid of them."

Harry sighed. He knew it had to happen sooner rather than later. A choice had to be made. Harry thought he made have made it a bit easier by sitting with Stefan, rather than inviting him to join them outright, but nonetheless it was a decision the boy had to actively make for himself.

All eyes were now glued to Stefan, whose grip on his fork was so strong it had bent the metal.

" _Skorik."_ Malfoy's voice now held a note of warning.

"Stefan," Hermione said softly. "You don't have to stay here. You can come with us."

Stefan stiffened even further. His gaze finally glanced at Hermione, before it darted over to Harry. His face had paled slightly.

Harry stared back evenly. He wondered if Stefan would be able to hear a thought if he pushed it very close to the surface of his mind. Harry dropped his mental shields and pushed a thought towards the boy gently, hoping his sincerity would come through.

 _Come with us. We won't hurt you._

Stefan jolted, paling even further until he resembled snow.

"Skorik," Malfoy said furiously. "You known they're only trying to use you for one of their games, don't you?"

Stefan's gaze dropped. "Leave."

Harry's mouth tilted downwards, wondering if he should push. Hermione shot Malfoy a furious glare, looking as though she would like very much to break his nose again, and her fingers twitched.

Stefan looked up, his face icy. "Go away Potter."

Harry studied him a moment longer, before getting to his feet. Harry and Hermione picked up their plates and headed over to the Gryffindor table where the others were sitting, disregarding the whispers and stares of those around them.

Pushing any further wouldn't be good just now. Never mind. Harry and Hermione hadn't expected Stefan to jump ship immediately. Conversing with Harry when Malfoy wasn't around was one thing. Breaking away when Draco Malfoy was sitting right there was another. And Harry wasn't going to force the werewolf into anything.

"What was that about?" Daphne murmured as Harry and Hermione sat with the Gryffindors. Harry took a moment to marvel at the Slytherin Ice Queen sitting with the Gryffindors. There was no way Daphne would have come over here this time last year. As it was, she looked a little discomforted with all the eyes on them.

"Just being friendly," Harry said, tucking into his pie.

\\\/

Harry though, was nothing but persistent. Hermione even more so. The thought of breaking Stefan away from Malfoy's poisonous hold seemed to have taken grip of her, and she watched for every opportunity. Harry knew from experience that Hermione's tenacity was so great that only an apocalypse - and even then it was a toss up - would be able to stop her.

So, that night at dinner, Harry and Hermione once more made their way back to the empty space along the bench, and sat down again - only for Stefan to refuse their company once more.

The two of them left, but they returned the next morning at breakfast, and then at lunch, and then again for dinner. And so it went. Harry and Hermione would sit down beside Stefan, exchange insults with Malfoy for a few minutes, and then the blond boy would order Stefan to get rid of them, as though this was some test the werewolf needed to pass. The two of them would then leave without complaint.

Meal after meal, the two doggedly returned. It became so predictable that most people stopped watching the spectacle, certain the outcome was inevitable.

But slowly, gradually, with painstaking care, Harry could tell that he and Hermione were getting through to Stefan. The boy still told them to leave every meal, but Harry could sense the frigidity thawing little by little.

It was only a matter of time.

\\\/

"Doesn't it hurt them?" Daphne asked, flinching as she looked down at the Mandrakes they were carefully dismembering.

"No," Neville said, hurrying over to their bench, pulling on a pair of gloves as he went. "They've been knocked out. They won't feel a thing."

"Neville's right," Professor Sprout said from the other side of the greenhouse. She looked even more dishevelled from usual. Her face was smeared with dirt, and her witches hat was hanging askew. Neville had told Harry that accelerating the rate of growth of the Mandrakes was an exhausting, full time job. Finally they were ready to harvest, and all of them had offered to help.

Professor Snape was in the dungeons brewing the base for the restorative draught. Everyone had been surprised when the dour potions master had agreed to let Hermione watch him brew the difficult potion, and Hermione's excitement had been unparalleled.

Harry looked down at the mandrake he was cutting up. The Mandrakes had been stunned, and lay limply on the benches. It was discomfiting now much they looked like filthy little plant babies. Harry grimaced as he carefully cut off a leg, and began trimming it into neat squares. The inside of the Mandrakes was both fibrous and fleshy looking, and the task made him extremely uncomfortable.

Neville, however, was in his element as he whirled around them all, offering help and directions. Daphne and Ginny worked together, the little first year copying everything Daphne did. Susan and Ron were paired at another bench, working together on a particularly fat one.

"That's not a school knife Daphne," Neville called out. Harry looked over. It was true. Daphne was slicing up the Mandrakes with a silver stiletto dagger with a jeweled handle. The dagger was wickedly sharp, and looked dangerous.

"It's a Greengrass blade," Daphne said loftily. "All the women in our family carry one."

"What, in your pocket?" Ron asked, looking sceptically at the knife.

"No," Daphne sniffed haughtily. "Here." The blonde drew back her robes and lifted her skirt above her knee. Ron blanched. Strapped to Daphne's milky white thigh was a black leather dagger holster. The sheath was empty, the dagger being in Daphne's hand. Ron spluttered, and turned bright red. Daphne smirked, and lowered her robes.

"Only a fool doesn't carry extra protection," Daphne said coolly, turning back to her Mandrakes with supreme indifference.

"I think it's sensible," Susan Bones said, turning from her table and wiping beads of sweat from her plump forehead. "What if you lose your wand? A knife is applicable in every situation."

Ron shot Susan a betrayed look, and the Hufflepuff girl laughed. She had a very musical laugh, and had in fact been rather good company. There was just something about Hufflepuffs, Harry thought. There was no pretence to them - no guile. They said what they thought, worked hard, and were generally rather pleasant.

"You don't carry one do you?" Ron said to Susan, colouring even darker.

"No," Susan grinned. "I'd probably chop my leg off by accident."

"I want one," Ginny said hopefully, eyeing the beautiful blade.

"Over my dead body," Ron scowled.

\\\/

It was when they were sitting in charms towards the end of the week that Harry heard a piece of news that interested him a great deal. Charms was, as everyone knew, the ideal place to have a quiet conversation. There were always plenty of bangs and puffs of smoke to mask the voices. Later, he supposed it was only luck that he heard it at all.

Theodore Nott had been paired by Professor Flitwick with Draco Malfoy, and they were standing in front of him. They were supposed to be learning a cushioning charm, and the desks had all been removed to give them space to practice.

"Now! Remember class, the incantation is _arrestio fallio,"_ Professor Flitwick squeaked from his perch on top of a pile of books. "

"Do you want to go first?" Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry nodded, and swapped his wands over. Hermione had started referring to them as Harry's verbal wand and his non-verbal wand, and the name had stuck.

"Go on," Harry gestured to Ron. Ron took a deep breath, and let himself fall backwards towards the stone floor. Practising for this charm took a great deal of courage on the part of the subject.

" _Arrestio Fallio,"_ Harry said, flicking his wand at Ron. It was literally as though an invisible cushion stopped Ron's fall. He bounced slightly, before gently sinking to the floor. Behind him, Daphne gave Harry a nod.

While Ron was climbing to his feet and straightening his robes, Harry caught a couple of words from the conversation in front of him. It was enough to pique his interest, and he edged forwards to hear more.

"Yes, father was very disappointed to have to cancel the Malfoy Winter Gala but of course given mother's, er, _condition..."_

Draco Malfoy was talking to Theodore Nott, neither of them practising the charm they were supposed to be learning.

"My father said that the Winter Gala has been moved for this year though, not cancelled?" Theodore said. "Do you know where to?"

"Well," Malfoy looked around and lowered his voice. Harry edged closer, shaking his head at Ron who had raised his wand hopefully. "It's not been confirmed yet. But the rumours are saying that it might be hosted by Minister Crouch himself. But wouldn't your father know that, as Senior Undersecretary?"

"My father has more important things to do than spend his days worrying about where the Winter Gala will be held," Theodore sniffed. "But it makes sense. Minister Crouch would no doubt want to create a good showing for his first Christmas as Minister of Magic. And I've heard that Crouch Manor is really quite large."

"How are you doing boys?" Professor Flitwick said. Harry jumped back as though he had been shot. Malfoy turned around and sneered at him.

"Fine thanks, Professor," Harry said.

"Well let's see Mr Weasley then!" Professor Flitwick said, clapping his hands together.

Ron looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. "Sorry if I let you hit the floor," he muttered to Harry.

Harry winced, and turned to face Ron, who was twirling his wand nervously.

"Three, two, one.."

Harry let himself fall backwards.

" _Arrestio Fallio!"_ Ron cried. Harry felt suddenly as though he had smacked into something very soft, and felt himself come to a stop, before dropping gently to the floor.

"Oh bravo!" Cried Professor Flitwick, applauding. Ron looked very pleased with himself. Harry picked himself up and glanced over towards Malfoy and Theodore. But they had moved far enough away that he couldn't hear any more of their conversation.

\\\/

"Daphne what's the Malfoy Winter Gala?" Harry asked as they were walking down to dinner. He already knew, but wanted to hear her confirm.

Daphne looked at Harry curiously for a moment. "Just a party the Malfoy's throw for all the upper circle of the Ministry once a year. Why?"

"Just heard Malfoy mentioning they weren't having it this year," Harry shrugged.

"Yes, I've heard Lady Malfoy is due around December," Daphne said, her lips twisting into an approximation of a smirk. "I imagine she won't be up to entertaining."

"I heard the Minister of Magic might be holding it," Harry said casually.

"That makes sense," Daphne nodded slowly. "Why? Do you want to go? The Greengrass family always have an invitation."

"Not particularly," Harry admitted. "But I might see if I can wrangle an invitation anyway. Boy-who-lived and all, I'm sure I can manage one."

Daphne laughed, and it was the laugh of the eternally privileged. The laughter of those for whom not having an invitation to the most prestigious events their country had to offer was unthinkable. Harry rolled his eyes

As they came to the double doors to the great hall, Daphne sighed. "I suppose you won't be sitting with us again today," she muttered distastefully.

"See you later," Harry grinned, ambling towards the Slytherin table where Hermione waited.

\\\/

Thursday afternoon saw Harry and Hermione once more make a beeline for Stefan. Their friends, who were long used to Harry's whims, shot them long suffering looks, but bagged the end of the Gryffindor table and waited for Harry and Hermione to finish up their mealtime ritual. Daphne was already making her way over, and although a few of the Slytherins looked slightly put out by this, most of them had grown used to Daphne frequenting with Ginny and Hermione, and by extension, Harry and the others.

However there was one difference today. When Harry and Hermione reached the werewolf they were trying to befriend, they found Stefan stiff-backed and unmoving, with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him. Neither of them looked particularly happy with this arrangement, but judging by Malfoy's smirk from the other side of the table, none of them had much choice in the matter.

"What do you want Potter and mudblood?" Malfoy drawled. This new turn of events had half the great hall watching, for their midday entertainment, and Ron and Neville looked ready to come over and spring to their aid.

Harry wished he understood why Malfoy was so determined. By this point it was clearly just to get one over on Harry by not giving an inch, because Malfoy didn't even _like_ Stefan.

Hermione looked at Harry for a moment. Harry reached over to the table and grabbed a sandwich from a platter. Then he flopped gracelessly onto the floor, and began to eat it. Hermione didn't even hesitate. She picked up her own sandwich, and sat right next to him.

"We should have brought something to sit on," Hermione said to Harry conversationally.

Crabbe and Goyle's jaws dropped. They stared gormlessly at Harry and Hermione, forgetting to eat. Harry could see Ron and Neville frowning from the Gryffindor table, and Ginny looked upset. Daphne however, still wore a smirk.

And while Stefan might have kept his composure admirably all week, even he couldn't help whipping his head around when he heard Harry and Hermione sit down on the floor. Harry tilted his head back and caught a glimpse of raw emotion on Stefan's face. He looked confused. Stunned, even. And a little shocked and frightened, as though he suddenly found himself way out of his depth.

Harry smiled inwardly, and shared a look with Hermione. Maybe it was slightly cruel of them to drag Stefan's loyalties out in the open like this, but from what Harry had seen, Draco's treatment would leave far more lasting mental, emotional and perhaps even physical scars on the boy.

"You're a disgrace to your parents memory, Potter," Malfoy snapped, pushing himself to his feet and looming over Harry and Hermione. "Sitting on the floor like a dog, after we thought the name of Potter could sink no lower."

Hermione opened her mouth furiously, but Harry put a hand on her wrist to stop her replying. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and then swallowed before answering. "You're just jealous Malfoy," he said calmly.

"Jealous?'' Malfoy said incredulously. "Of _you_?"

"Yep," Harry said happily. "Bet you'd never sit on the floor. Might do some uncomfortable things to that stick lodged up your arse."

Malfoy spluttered furiously, and Hermione snorted with laughter. But Malfoy looked as though he had finally reached the end of his patience. Harry couldn't blame him really. After all, Harry and Hermione had been coming over and harassing him and his friends at every single meal time for the last two weeks.

"Just leave Potter, take your mudblood, and don't come back," Malfoy snarled.

Malfoy picking up his eating knife and hurled it directly at Harry. There were many ways Harry could have stopped the knife. It was a blunt eating knife, and he could have probably have caught it with his hand. Or he could have used wandless magic to redirect harmlessly off to the side. Or he could have magically blocked it with the shield charm that blocked physical objects. But as it turned out, he didn't need to do any of those things.

A hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed the knife right out of the air with lightning fast reflexes, before it could go anywhere near Harry or Hermione. Harry followed the hand to its owner, and felt a smile rise unbidden to his lips.

"Skorik what are you _doing?_ " Malfoy hissed, incensed.

Stefan had half stood, and was twirling the knife between his fingers, a thoughtful, slightly pensive expression on his face. The whole of the Slytherin table fell silent. Ron and Neville stood up, craning their necks to get a better view. None of them had ever seen Stefan do something Malfoy didn't order him to do first.

The entire great hall saw the gaunt, pale second year close his eyes and heave a great sigh.

Then Stefan let the knife fall to the table with a loud clatter. Malfoy's eyes locked on the knife, and fury rose like poison in his eyes. But Stefan wasn't watching Malfoy. He looked Harry and Hermione both in the eye, and whatever he found there seemed to reassure him. With a swift decisiveness, Stefan picked up his bag and his plate, and turned to the pair on the floor. He stepped over the bench and away from the table.

" _Skorik._ What are you _doing?_ "

Stefan shifted, dark brown eyes meeting Harry's green ones. The hesitant trust Harry found in them humbled him, and he moved over so there was space for Stefan. Then the werewolf turned back to Malfoy, his gaze turning to ice.

"I'm leaving, Malfoy," Stefan said in his accented voice.

Without another word, the second year dropped his bag, and sat down on the floor beside Harry and Hermione with his plate. Stefan gave Harry a shy smile, and suddenly Harry was grinning back, flooded with joy and relief that he had managed it. Between them, he and Hermione had set out to accomplish something, to _change_ something for the better and they had succeeded.

" _Skorik!"_ Malfoy wasn't giving up easily.

"Detention Mr Malfoy," a voice suddenly hissed from behind them. Harry turned his head to see Professor Snape bearing down on them, fixing Malfoy with a look that made Harry exceptionally glad it wasn't directed at him. "For throwing a weapon at a fellow Slytherin during a meal."

"But-"

"No buts, Mr Malfoy. I will see you in my office at seven," Professor Snape sneered. Malfoy stood up, rage twisting his face, and stalked down the Slytherin table towards the doors. He slammed open the doors to the entrance hall, and left the room in a whirl of black robes and coiffured blonde hair.

Professor Snape looked down at Harry, Hermione and Stefan. Although the man's sour features were hard to read at the best of times, Harry thought he detected a glimmer of respect in the man's eyes as he looked at them.

"Please return to the table, Potter, Granger and Skorik," Snape drawled. "Members of the noble house of Slytherin do not eat on the floor unless is for a very good cause and absolutely necessary. Two points each from Slytherin and Ravenclaw for this transgression."

"Yes sir," Harry sighed. The three of them picked up their bags and plates and returned to the table. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy slid as far away down the bench as they could. The rest of Slytherin was watching the interaction silently

"Five points apiece for obeying instructions promptly," Professor Snape said, a smirk playing about his mouth. Harry grinned.

As Snape turned to leave, Harry felt a thought suddenly appear in his mind - a thought that didn't belong to him. It wasn't legilimency, so his shields didn't block it. It was simply silent communication.

 _Your mother would have done the very same thing. She would have been proud._ Professor Snape's voice echoed in Harry's mind.

\\\/

Conversation was slow to start, especially when Ron and Neville came hurrying up, and sat down in the recently vacated spaces, bringing with them plates of food.

"Hi, I'm Neville," Neville said politely, offering Stefan his hand. Stefan shook it, but seemed nervous and said nothing. And then Daphne and Ginny arrived, carrying armloads of bags that had been forgotten, which Daphne dumped on the floor with a long suffering sigh.

"Move over Weasley," Daphne said to Ron, who was wincing from an accidental elbow in the ribs. "There's more of us." Ginny slid in beside Hermione, a satisfied smile on her face and a heavy bag in her hand.

Harry and Hermione stayed on either side of Stefan, and Ron and Neville ended up sitting across from them, with the other two girls squeezed in around the sides. Stefan looked a bit overwhelmed from the sudden influx of people, but Harry beamed as Ron introduced himself and the others. Before long, the normal levels of banter had resumed.

"You're going to be alright with us," Harry murmured to Stefan. "Don't worry. You're going to be just fine." Stefan looked a little dazed as he nodded at Harry, as though he wasn't really sure what had just happened.

Stefan stayed quiet throughout the meal, but Harry and Hermione spoke to him intermittently, drawing him into the conversation and teasing answers from him. The others gave him a little space, sensing that he needed it. But Stefan kept shooting Harry sidelong looks, as though he wanted to ask a question, but didn't know where to start.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly, as dessert appeared on the table in front of them.

Stefan shot Harry a long look before speaking. "Why?" He asked softly. There was badly disguised doubt in his voice, and it made Harry's heart tighten.

Harry answerer with a question of his own, one of his favourite quotes:

" _If not me, who? If not now, when_?" Harry said, grinning at Stefan.

A smile spread across Stefan's face like the sun rising over the horizon. "I think I'm going to like you," the werewolf said, meeting Harry's gaze steadily.

"Oh, I think you will," Harry said happily.

 _ **\\\/**_

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	30. Chapter 30

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Twelve**

\\\/

Daphne Greengrass had always been able to notice things that other people overlooked.

The blonde girl swirled the contents of her goblet idly as she watched Ron and Harry enter the great hall, flanking Stefan Skorik on either side. A few seats down, Draco was trying to act unconcerned, but Daphne noticed how hard he had to fight to not look at the trio. The muscles on his neck were standing out like struts, he was trying so hard not to turn his head.

It had been like that since Harry and Hermione had single handedly wrestled Stefan away from Draco's hold a week ago, and Draco still hadn't recovered from his fury. This year had been nothing but one body blow after another for his family, and Daphne knew Lucius would be furious when he learned of Draco's latest failure.

Daphne wondered again if she should tell Harry what she really knew about why Draco had been ordered to befriend Stefan. But it didn't seem like anything Harry really needed to know right now. And Daphne only revealed knowledge on a strictly need to know basis, and even then, usually only if there was something in return.

Daphne's eyes cut across the room to Harry and Stefan again. A part of her even admired Harry and Hermione for what they had done. It was certainly something she would never have considered - far too degrading.

But Daphne wasn't stupid, and even if the rest of their friends seemed content to let things run their course without raising a question, she could see what Harry was doing. During the first week, Harry had determinedly made friends with members of every house, and yet nobody in Slytherin had dared question him about it. Ron Weasley had ended up in _Slytherin,_ no doubt due to Harry's influence. He had managed to win over Professor Snape, the most terrifying teacher in the school, and had bought a new _wand_ just to hide how powerful his magic really was. The other teachers raved about his success, and his friends followed him without even noticing they were being led.

Then Harry efficiently cut Stefan away from Draco like it was no trouble, after months of the Malfoy heir chaining the werewolf to his side. Even Daphne knew she had been drawn into his whirlpool of eccentric charisma.

And that was only within the Hogwarts walls. Sirius Black sprang to mind, as did the dragon that Harry had gone out of his way not to mention to Daphne.

Harry Potter was starting a small, silent revolution. And the terrifying thing was that nobody had seemed to notice. Even he and his three closest friends walked around in their own _uniform_ like they belonged to some exclusive club _,_ expensive African robes that nobody had ever seen before, and yet somehow none of the teachers had even mentioned that they might not exactly fit the uniform standard.

Daphne still hasn't decided what kind of role she wanted to play in this drama that Harry was playing out. To her it seemed quite clear that Harry had entered Hogwarts with a very specific agenda, which he was now busily fulfilling.

Daphne wasn't sure quite where Stefan Skorik fit into this agenda, but she would be very interested to find out. Like most things, she was sure it would only take a little more watching. And of course, she would have no trouble obtaining the information she wanted.

" _Are you going over to ssspeak to them now?"_ Daphne said softly, raising her sleeve to her mouth the way she had seen Harry do it a hundred times.

" _Yesss. Moon-boy isss there with mouse-hunt-friend."_

Daphne looked up. It was true - Vladimir was nestled securely in Stefan's arms. Ever since the cat had been un-petrified, Stefan had barely let him go for a moment.

" _Good. Sssee you later."_

 _"Sssee you youngling."_

Sanna slid from Daphne's wrist to the table, and slipped beneath without anybody noticing. Daphne watched the flicker of her scales beneath the table, and wondered idly what information the little snake would return with this time. Knowledge was power, after all. And Daphne Greengrass was exceptionally powerful.

\\\/

Within days, Harry thought, it was as though Stefan had always been one of them. By now, their group was growing so large they were taking up a great of space at whatever house table they ended up at, but nobody seemed to mind. Harry watched with interest as their group divided along gender lines. Daphne, Hermione and Ginny usually sat on one side of the table with their heads together; red, blonde and brown. The boys; Ron, Neville, Harry and most recently, Stefan - sat on the other side.

Harry supposed he should have predicted it, but it was a relatively unusual phenomenon. In his village, boys and girls mixed together equally until they became old enough to notice one another as more than among the British teens, he noticed a gradual natural distance. As it didn't seem to affect their overall status as a group, Harry let it pass without comment.

Harry often caught Draco Malfoy muttering about them to his group of friends, but after Professor Snape had given him detention, the blonde boy had restrained himself to shooting spiteful looks at the group, and mouthing insults when he didn't think Harry was watching.

Harry supposed that was the best he was going to get, and was simply relieved that Malfoy didn't seem to be out to get Stefan to return to his side. Stefan remained close-lipped about the whole event and why he had been with Malfoy in the first place, and so Harry didn't feel the need to push, deciding he would let the boy talk in his own time.

\\\/

"You know," Ron said lazily one afternoon, gazing out at the clear skies. "We haven't been flying in _ages._ Not since the quidditch thing."

"We haven't, " Harry agreed, sitting up straighter and looking out of the window. The quidditch pitch was empty in the distance, and it was the perfect day for a flight. "Fancy a round after dinner? Neville? Stefan?"

"I'm in," Neville nodded eagerly. Stefan looked thoughtful, and then nodded his agreement.

"What about the Transfiguration essay due tomorrow," Hermione fretted, looking up from the book she was perusing.

"Let them go Hermione," Daphne said, laying a hand on the brunette's arm, and rolling her eyes. "We'll get more done without them here."

"I resent that!" Neville said indignantly, sitting up straight. "We always study!"

"And you always end up asking questions and distracting everyone," Daphne pointed out. Neville looked irritated, and looked about to retort, so Harry quickly intervened.

"Neville can ask all the questions he wants - it's how anyone learns," Harry said to Daphne. "But I think a bit of flying is a good idea."

So after dinner, the four boys grabbed their brooms, and headed down to the darkened quidditch pitch. Harry conjured up several huge globes of light that hovered over the pitch like floodlights, illuminating it in the semi-darkness. As he conjured the lights, Harry noticed Stefan's eyes following him with disbelief, but the other boy made no comment.

They took to the sky, and spent a very happy hour or so tossing Harry's practice quaffle around the pitch, sending it through the goalposts. Stefan was an excellent flier, and Harry and the others commented on it, but the boy seemed embarrassed by the compliments.

After an hour, Ron complained that his hands were growing numb with cold, and Neville admitted that his backside was getting slightly bruised from all the time spent on a broom. Harry, however, was enjoying himself relaxing in the air, and decided to stay a little longer. He was pleasantly surprised when Stefan opted to join him.

"Would you like me to keep?" Stefan offered, flying up to Harry with the quaffle under his arm.

"It's alright," Harry said, executing a lazy loop the loop in mid air. "To tell you the truth, I much prefer seeking than chasing."

"You look like a seeker," Stefan nodded, passing the quaffle over to Harry, who shrunk it and put it away in his pocket.

"Do you think?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes. I have a friend who is a very good seeker, and you're built similarly to him."

"Really?" Harry said, setting off around the pitch at a relaxed speed, wondering if this was a good time to ask Stefan about his experience at Durmstrang. Above the pitch, Harry noticed his globes of light dimming slightly and sent a pulse of magic towards them.

"How do you do that?" Stefan asked abruptly, coming to a stop in mid air.

"Do what?"

"Wandless magic. You are...thirteen?"

"Twelve," Harry admitted.

"You do not seem twelve," Stefan observed.

"Neither do you," Harry said, urging his broom forward again. They were heading away from the pitch towards the castle now, and ahead of them, Harry saw the astronomy tower. There didn't seem to be a class there, so Harry directed his broom in that direction, flicking his finger to make the globes of light follow them.

Stefan laughed, to Harry's surprise. "No, I suppose I do not," the werewolf murmured.

Harry drifted up to the edge of the tower, and alighted upon it gently. He dismounted, and leant his broom against the wall, before turning to look out over the grounds. The globes of light floated slowly over, and hovered about his head, pulsing gently. Stefan landed next to Harry, and also dismounted. He didn't question Harry, seeming to find nothing unusual in being on top of the astronomy tower in the dark.

"I'll do you a trade," Harry said eventually.

"A trade?"

"Yes. I've got secrets, and, well, I think you do too. I'll trade you an honest answer in return for an honest answer."

Stefan looked thoughtfully at Harry. It was hard to read his expression in the dark. "Alright," he said eventually, sliding down the wall into a seated position.

Harry sat across from him. "Do you want to go first?"

Stefan nodded. "You already know my question. How are you so powerful? You can perform wandless magic, and I felt you push a thought into my mind last week. You are so young. These things do not make sense."

Harry sighed. "It's not a secret," he said eventually. "Most of my friends already know. It's to do with my culture, and how I grew up around magic."

Briefly, Harry explained about the life he had experienced in Uganda, and the magic he had learned as a child. Stefan sat open mouthed, staring at Harry as he spoke. Harry tried to keep it as brief as he could, but when he saw how interested Stefan was, he couldn't help but go into a little more detail than was perhaps necessary.

"- and so I had to buy a new wand in first year, and try to learn to cast spells like everybody else, so I can attend classes like normal. But honestly, I could probably do all the practical work without a wand."

"You have lived such a life," Stefan breathed. "I wish I could see these things you have seen, do these things you have done."

"It's not that special," Harry said awkwardly. "Besides, I'm sure you've had a pretty exciting life yourself."

Harry regretted his comment instantly, as he saw Stefan's face close and become stiff. "Hey," Harry joked weakly. "Come on. You owe me a question."

Stefan seemed to snap out of it, and nodded at Harry. "You are correct. Very well, what do you wish to know?"

Harry considered it. There was a lot he wanted to know. Eventually he settled on a question. "Tell me about being at Durmstrang. What was it like there?"

Stefan stared at Harry. "Why must you ask the question I do not wish to answer?" Stefan said softly, tilting his head to gaze up at the sky. Harry looked up and saw the moon overhead.

"I know you're a werewolf," Harry said quietly, not wanting to pretend. Stefan's head snapped towards Harry, and Harry saw the betrayal flash in his eyes. "Hey! I don't care," Harry said quickly. "It doesn't matter to me. One of my mentors is a werewolf."

"Professor Lupin," Stefan sighed. "Of course. He told you?"

"Only because I wanted to make sure you were alright," Harry admitted, not willing to lie.

"I see," Stefan muttered. "Very well. You wish to know what my life was like at Durmstrang? I will tell you. But I must start from the beginning, with the bite."

Harry leaned forward so he could hear better, and made the globes flare brighter so he could see Stefan's face more clearly. Stefan seemed to be thinking deeply, but after a moment he began to speak.

"I was bitten as a small child. I do not know the identity of the werewolf. My family are...well, they are very important within the governing body of Norway's magical society, and were very upset when this happened. Because werewolves are forbidden at Durmstrang, and they thought I would never go to school."

"But you did."

"I did. My father made a deal with Karkaroff - the headmaster of Durmstrang." Stefan's face twisted as he said the name, and Harry wondered at it.

"Go on," Harry said, leaning forwards again.

"The deal was supposed to be that I would attend as a normal student, but during the full moon, the other students would be able to study me, study my transformations. Although my father is a very powerful man, Karkaroff did not want a werewolf in his school, and this was the best compromise we could make."

Harry winced. The thought of a human being treated as a test subject made his blood boil, and he felt deep pity for Stefan in that situation. "What happened?' Harry asked softly.

Stefan scowled, and his whole face twisted unrecognisably. "The other students did not _like_ having a werewolf in their midst. They made their displeasure at my presence known. They liked to practice... Practice their skills on me."

"What sort of skills?" Harry asked, probing gently.

Stefgan shrugged, but beneath the cold veneer, Harry saw an ocean of pain. "Dark spells. Knife throwing. Martial arts. Many other things too." Stefan's voice broke on the last word, and he looked at the ground. Harry thought he saw tears shimmering, before the boy wiped his face roughly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, rising to his feet fluidly, then stepping over and laying a hand on Stefan's shoulder. "But you're here now. You're with us. Everything is going to be fine from now on, I promise."

"Thank you," Stefan said fiercely, looking up at Harry. "Thank you for coming for me. Whatever you need, ever. I will be there for you too. I have never had friends like you before, and I will never leave you unprotected."

Harry held Stefan's gaze for a moment, and nodded, before dropping his hand. Both boys looked away awkwardly, and Harry scratched the back of his neck. Somehow they had gotten in very deep and emotional, and neither boy was entirely comfortable with the territory they had strayed onto. Boys being boys, too much emotion was definitely to be shied away from.

"Er, shall we fly back to the pitch?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Yes, I would like that," Stefan said, a smile breaking out on his face. Stefan picked up his broom and mounted, pushing off from the edge of the tower and hovering, waiting for Harry.

"Watch this," Harry grinned. It was time for a little light relief.

"What are you doing?" Stefan asked. Harry didn't answer.

Harry picked up his broom, but didn't mount it. He climbed onto the edge of the astronomy tower, and looked into the darkness below. The ground seemed very far away, but he could still make it out slightly. Gripping his broom firmly in his right hand, Harry took a deep breath. Then he threw himself headfirst from the tower.

The wind whistled past Harry's ears as he fell in free fall through the air, the darkness rushing past him. Everything seemed to be moving at a thousand miles an hour. Harry counted the seconds. _One...two..._ On three, he swung his leg over his broom and yanked sharply on the handle. The broom swung wildly upright, sending him into a dizzying spin. Then within moments, Harry was soaring high into the air, a whoop tearing itself free from his throat.

"What are you doing?" Stefan screamed as Harry came level. Harry smiled widely, his heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through his veins, and his blood thrumming.

"Feeling alive," Harry replied. Stefan had gone white, and he stared at Harry as if he had gone insane.

"You could have killed yourself!"

"And what a way to go!"

Stefan gave Harry another _are you crazy_ look, before shaking his head and bursting into laughter. "That was amazing! Viktor would have loved it."

"Who is Viktor?" Harry asked, as they turned towards the quidditch pitch.

"A friend from Durmstrang. One of my only friends. He's an amazing Quidditch player - he even has a tryout with the Bulgarian national team this summer."

"Wow," Harry said enviously. "He must be good."

"He is. If you come to Norway, perhaps I will introduce you one day."

"I'd like that," Harry said eagerly. "But for now, race you back to the castle?"

"You're on," Stefan smiled. Then he took off like a speeding bullet, heading towards the distant castle. Harry roared with laughter, and followed his new friend into the night.

\\\/

 _THE WINTER GALA_

 _The Daily Prophet can finally confirm the rumours which the great and good of the Wizarding world have been discussing for weeks. Minister Crouch last night announced that the annual Winter Gala, traditionally hosted by the Malfoy family, will this year be hosted by the Minister of Magic himself, in his first Christmas as Minister. The event will take place at Minister Crouch's opulent Nottinghamshire Manor._

 _The usual host, Lord Lucius Malfoy, also kindly spoke to our correspondant. Speaking from Malfoy manor, the most frequent location of the traditional winter gala, Lord Malfoy today discussed why the Malfoy family will not be hosting this most prestigious event this Christmas._

 _"My wife, the Lady Narcissa Malfoy, is expecting a child around December," Lord Malfoy told our reporter. "And while we are naturally very disappointed not to host this event, concessions must be made for family matters. However is our hope that we will attend the ball nonetheless, should the birth prove timely."_

 _The Winter Gala, an event traditionally associated with the Ministry of Magic, began several hundred years ago when the Ministry began attempts to strengthen internal ties amongst members of government, society, and their families. During the reign of Grindelwald, it was cancelled on seven occasions, for fear it would prove a target. During the reign of Lord Voldemort, it was also cancelled twice for similar reasons._

 _The Malfoy family have held the lauded position of hosts for six generations, and have cancelled for family matters only once previously, the occasion being the birth of Lord Abraxus Malfoy on Christmas Eve._

 _Rumours that Lord Lucius Malfoy's highly public fall from grace during recent events at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may also have something to do with Lord Malfoy's reluctance to place himself on the public stage, have not been confirmed_.

"Have not been confirmed," Hermione mocked, tossing the paper back onto the table. "They might as well just say he's too embarrassed to show his face."

"You're not usually this vindictive Hermione," Daphne said, not sounding at all critical, as she spooned honey into her porridge.

"Malfoy is a special case," Hermione said, perusing the rest of the Daily Prophet.

"Anything else interesting?" Harry asked from the other side of the table. He glanced upwards at the ceiling, which revealed a dark November morning, but Vapour was away sending a message to Sirius, and had not yet returned.

"Not really," Hermione said, returning her gaze to the paper. "They've managed to keep the entire Chamber of Secrets situation under wraps."

"Dumbledore doesn't want it known, of course," Neville said, dropping into the seat beside Hermione, and spraying her with earth. Hermione smacked Neville on the shoulder, and he dodged away, apologising.

"What do we think then?" Harry asked the group at large. "Shall we send a letter to our friends at the Prophet, or not?"

"We've not got anything to go on yet," Ron pointed out. "Except a cat."

Stefan, who had been sitting and listening silently, clutched Vladimir closer to his chest, and flinched. Ron looked guilty.

"What would they do if they heard?" Neville asked rhetorically.

"Nothing I suppose," Harry said. "Since - sorry Stefan - it's just a cat at the moment. But I'm wondering if this is what that house elf was talking about."

They all fell silent for a moment, considering the matter. Then Stefan spoke up, making them all jump. Stefan was very silent and never really spoke when they were all present. He seemed content to stick to Harry like a bodyguard, and glare at anyone who looked at him twice.

"This, this I have very bad feeling about," Stefan said quietly. They all looked at him. The pale boy wasn't making eye contact, instead swirling his spoon around his glass with his eyes to the table.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked nervously.

Stefan seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "I _feel,"_ he said, with difficulty. "Is that how you say it? I _know._ I just _know."_

"What do you mean?" Harry repeated.

Stefan looked as though he wasn't sure how to get across what he was saying, and all the attention on him was turning his white cheeks pink. "I mean," he began. "This is...not good, this will get worse. I know, the same way my family knew I must come here. I know this is bad."

"Are you saying you're a seer?" Daphne asked, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

Stefan looked relieved that someone had finally understood what he was saying. "Seer no," he said, shaking his head. "My grandfather is the seer. The blood is very diluted now - I just know things."

Silence fell for a moment, and they all turned to look at Stefan. "Damn," Ron summarised, as they all stared at the pale boy.

"The divination teacher is going to love that," Hermione said, glancing up at the top table.

"I'm not a seer," Stefan insisted. "I just have...feelings. And these feelings, they are usually correct."

Harry frowned. No matter what Stefan might say about not being a seer, being able to know whether a situation was going to get better or worse sounded a lot like being able to understand the future to him. And if things were going to get worse, they needed all the warning they could get.

\\\/

"So this is the latest addition?" Hagrid boomed cheerfully, as he opened his cabin door to find the usual four, plus Stefan on his doorstep.

"Hello Hagrid," Harry grinned, leading the way inside. It was a cold November lunchtime, and they had finally found the time to come and visit Hagrid. The five of them piled into the little hut, pulling off their winter hats and cloaks. There was a fire roaring in the grate, and the warmth seeped into Harry as he sank into a chair.

"Sit down," Harry said to Stefan, and the other boy perched nervously on the edge of a stool, looking around the little hut with interest.

"Tea?" Hagrid said, already busying himself with mugs and the copper kettle.

"Please," Hermione said, her teeth chattering.

"So you're new this year are yeh?" Hagrid said to Stefan. "Las' I heard, you were spendin' time with the Malfoy boy."

"Harry and Hermione stole me," Stefan said seriously. Hagrid peered closely at Stefan, and then smiled broadly.

"I'll wager they did," Hagrid said happily. "An' better friends you won' find anywhere. How's yeh cat?"

"Vladimir is well," Stefan said, his smile widening. "I am very grateful to you for your care of him."

"He was no trouble," Hagrid said, handing out mugs of hot, steaming tea and passing around a plate of rock cakes. "Well, of course he weren't. He was petrified, yeh see."

"I see," Stefan nodded seriously again. Harry grinned. Stefan's English was excellent, but some of the time it was hard to tell whether he was using his dry humour, or simply didn't get it. Harry suspected the Norwegian boy did it deliberately.

For a moment they sat in silence sipping the hot tea. Hagrid looked as though he was wrestling with himself over something, and Harry wanted to ask, but thought it was probably better to let the giant come to the subject himself. Finally, he spoke.

"Do they have any idea what got the cat yet?" Hagrid blurted out. Harry noticed he looked nervous.

"No," Hermione spoke for them all. "We looked up this Chamber of Secrets thing - turns out there's a myth that Slytherin created a chamber in the school, and hid a monster there. But because it was only a cat that was attacked, nobody seems to think there's anything to worry about yet."

"Ah," Hagrid said, twisting his hands together. "No talk about no heir of Slytherin or nothin'?"

"A bit," Harry shrugged. "But when nothing else happened, everyone seemed to think somebody played some kind of practical joke that wasn't funny."

"Do you think that?" Hagrid said, now playing with his beard. Harry wondered why he seemed so nervous. It was most uncharacteristic of Hagrid.

The four of them who had been there on Halloween looked at one another. Stefan looked confused, as Hermione shrugged at Harry, and Neville nodded.

"Well," Harry began. "To be honest, no we don't believe that."

"Oh," said Hagrid. "Oh. I see. Erm. Why d'ya say that?"

In short order, Harry explained about the voice he had been hearing. Hagrid's face grew paler as Harry continued speaking, and Harry watched closely, wondering what on earth could be the matter with their giant friend.

"I think Snape believes me," Harry finished. "But I'm not sure if Dumbledore did."

"Just be careful, all of yeh," Hagrid croaked, looking at them one by one. "Promise me yeh'll be careful."

"Do you think this is a real threat?" Hermione said, looking worriedly at Hagrid.

"I think yeh can never be too careful," Hagrid said, looking down into his tea, and not meeting anybody's eyes. "An' if anyone asked, I was definitely with yeh all on Halloween."

Looking at Hagrid, Harry was struck with the impression that they weren't the only ones keeping secrets.

\\\/

December arrived in a flurry of snow and ice. Professor Sprout needed Neville and Ron in the greenhouse whenever she could to help keep the Mandrakes warm, and Hagrid could be seen wandering the grounds with Fang in a Fluffy winter dog coat. Harry hadn't heard the voice again, and there had been no further attacks, so most of the school seemed to have forgotten about the whole incident. Harry was more worried about Sanna though, who was spending increasing amounts of time away from him, and being evasive when he asked where she had been.

In the second week of December, Professor Snape went around with a list, collecting the names of those who were staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. This brought up the question of what they would be doing over Christmas. Harry mentioned writing to Kingsley about them visiting Storm Cottage, and was promptly floored when Stefan nervously asked if they would like to visit Norway with him.

"Norway?" Harry said blankly, when Stefan suggested it.

"Forget it," Stefan said immediately, his face turning from pale to flaming red. "It doesn't matter. I will see you all next term."

"I didn't say no," Harry said, amused. "I was just surprised."

"Where's Norway?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes, and even Neville groaned.

"Cold," Daphne informed Ron, when nobody else answered. "Lots of snow. North."

"We live in a very big house," Stefan said eagerly, when it became apparent that nobody was dismissing his idea out of hand. "Lots of fires, very warm. Excellent snow everywhere, ice skating nearby."

"It sounds amazing," Hermione said wistfully. "But I have to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas."

"Why?" Harry asked, turning to look at Hermione in surprise.

Hermione's cheeks went pink. "Professor Snape has agreed to let me help him brew the wolfsbane potion for Remus," she said. Stefan flinched, but only Harry noticed.

"He's letting you brew with him?" Daphne frowned. "Seriously?"

"Well, I think I'm watching actually," Hermione admitted. "But I asked, and asked, and finally he said yes!"

"What he actually said was: _'For goodness sake Granger, very well then, if it will stop you harassing me for five minutes.'"_ Neville corrected, grinning. "I was there."

"Still, that's quite something," Harry said, impressed. "What about you then Daphne?"

"I have to stay in the castle for Christmas," Daphne said loftily.

"I'd love to come," Neville said eagerly. "Gran is away this Christmas anyway, and if I don't go somewhere, I'll have to stay with my Great Uncle Algie. But if I tell her I'm with Harry, she'll be fine!"

Stefan turned his gaze on Harry hopefully. "Well it seems I've got no choice then," Harry said, smiling. "It might be nice to go somewhere cold for a change. Why not?"

"I'm in," Ron agreed. "Ginny?"

"I'm going to stay with Daphne and Hermione," Ginny said after a moment, looking torn. "But another time," she said hastily to Stefan,as though she was worried about offending him. Stefan nodded his understanding.

"Look's like it'll be a blokes holiday then," Harry said to the group at large. "We'd better get writing some letters home."

Harry sent Vapour off with a letter for Kingsley, and one for the Weasley's. Neville also wrote to his grandmother, phrasing it as though he were visiting Harry for the holidays.

Kingsley wrote back to Harry a few days later, giving his permission for Harry to visit Norway for the first week. However, he also included news that he had secured tickets for Harry to attend the Winter Gala, along with a guest ticket. Harry hadn't decided who to ask yet, but promised to return to Britain in time for the New Year's Eve event.

Harry felt regretful that he wouldn't see the man he considered his father on Christmas day, but the opportunity to see Norway was too good to pass up. Mrs Weasley was surprisingly willing to let her son go, on the condition that he wrote home every day. Neville's grandmother was, as predicted, willing to let Neville go wherever Harry was.

"Gran thinks you're a good influence," Neville said to Harry, showing him the letter.

"Where did she get that idea?" Ron snorted.

"Doesn't matter - looks like we're going to Norway for Christmas," Harry said, smiling widely at Stefan, who was sitting on his bed in the dormitory.

"Yes!" Stefan crowed. "My family will be so pleased to meet you."

"Let's just hope nothing happens over the break, with the girls here alone," Neville frowned.

"The teachers are all here," Harry pointed out. But he hoped that Neville was wrong, and nothing happened. Harry hadn't heard the mysterious voice again since the incident with Vladimir, and could only hope that it had been a one-off occurrence.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Harry said. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, there was a niggling voice of doubt in his head that just wouldn't go away.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	31. Chapter 31

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

 **\\\/**

"Are you sure we won't get in trouble?" Hermione asked nervously, as Daphne dumped an armload of her belongings on a large green bed.

"Don't be silly," Daphne scoffed. "There's nobody left in the dormitory except us."

Hermione looked around the second year Slytherin girls dormitory with interest. Since Daphne and Ginny were both Slytherins, they had insisted that Hermione should join them in Slytherin over the Christmas holidays, rather than spend her time up alone in the Ravenclaw tower.

"It's very different to the Ravenclaw dormitories," Hermione said, helping Daphne spread sheets over an unmade bed.

"Is it? Here, get this corner - sorry, how?"

Hermione stretched the sheet over the edge of the bed, and then looked around. "No books," she said finally, settling on the glaring difference. "And the walls are stone. And we don't have any mirrors in Ravenclaw."

"No mirrors?" Daphne said, appalled. She glanced sideways at the full length mirror that ran along the whole length of one wall, and smoothed her robes down.

"Whose bed is Hermione getting?" Ginny asked, appearing in the doorway with her arms full of sheets. "I don't want Pansy's bed."

"You can have Millicent's," Daphne said after a pause. "And Hermione is having Tracey's."

"Is it really just us left here?" Hermione said.

"I think a few of the older years are staying," Daphne shrugged. "But in Slytherin, from the seventh year down it's just us."

"Let's throw a party in the common room," Ginny suggested with a wicked grin.

"Members of Slytherin do _not_ throw parties with just three people," Daphne sniffed. "Our parties are sought after by the whole school."

"Besides, the boys would miss it," Hermione added. "Do you think they're in Norway yet?"

"Probably," Daphne said, looking at the large clock that hung at one end of the room. "The Polar Express only takes a few hours."

"The polar express?" Hermione said sceptically. "That's just a muggle story."

"That's what you think," Daphne shrugged. "But I assure you, it exists."

\\\/

Harry blinked, as clouds of steam billowed from the royal blue train in front of them, and obscured his vision. It was a beautiful old-fashioned train, like the Hogwarts Express. _The Polar Express_ was scripted along one side of the engine, in swirling silver writing. The long train had dozens of carriages attached, and was crusted with snow and thick icicles. It looked like something from a fairytale.

"This is how we get to Helsinki?" Neville shouted over the noise. The crowded platform was full of people wearing thick fur cloaks and hats, chattering in a foreign language as they bustled onboard. The platform was lit up with oil lamps, as the sun set very early in Norway, and it was evening already.

"It goes right past on the way to the North Pole!" Stefan confirmed. The Norwegian boy looked in his element, back in the thick traditional fur garments of his homeland, speaking easily to the officials in his native tongue.

Harry shivered. The platform was covered in compacted snow that nobody seemed inclined to cast a melting spell on. There was a high vaulted wooden ceiling to keep out the worst of the weather, but the walls were open, and they could see nothing but swathes of snow outside. Norwegians, Harry decided, clearly didn't feel cold the way the rest of the world did.

They had taken the Hogwarts express back to London earlier the same day, and then used the public portkey system to get to Norway. Harry had assumed they would then floo to Stefan's house. But apparently using the floo system was considered only for emergencies in Norway, and the train was a far more acceptable way to travel. Which was how they had ended up on this freezing cold platform, with the night closing in, wet snow soaking through their robes and into their boots.

"You know, where I come from, it's like summer all year around," Harry groused good naturedly, as they climbed on board the train, hefting heavy trunks.

The temperature inside the train rose immediately as they boarded, and Stefan pushed his way past quickly, expertly weaving his way through the passengers until he found their compartment. "Come on!" Stefan called.

Harry, Room and Neville struggled through, lugging their heavy trunks into the compartment. Harry had Vapour in her cage, and she squawked furiously at this treatment. The boys set their luggage down, puffing and panting, and looked around. The train was clearly intended for overnight stays, as there were two sets of bunk beds lining the compartment, as well as a small table, and a couple of chairs. The inside was richly decorated in red and gold, and Neville was already grinning.

"I feel right at home," the Gryffindor boy commented, sinking onto the nearest bunk bed with a sigh.

"Don't forget you're with three Slytherins," Harry smirked.

"So how long are we on the train?" Ron asked Stefan, wiping the condensation off the window to peer through. People were still boarding the train, and Harry shivered as he watched the snow gusting outside.

"We reach Helsinki around nine tomorrow morning," Stefan said happily, pulling a menu from a nearby drawer. "Would anybody like to order dinner?"

"I would," Ron said enthusiastically, reaching for the menu. His face fell when he realised it was all written in Norwegian, and Stefan laughed at Ron's face.

"Say 'English,' very clearly," Stefan said, gesturing to the menu.

Ron plucked the menu from Stefan's hand. "Erm. English," he said to the menu, looking foolishly at it for a moment. Then the ink on the page swirled together, and when it reassembled, the words were in English.

"Cool!" Neville said, reaching for his own.

Vapour squawked from her cage, and Harry hurriedly fed a few owl nuts through the bars. "I'm sorry girl," Harry said sympathetically. "But I can't let you out. There's too much snow outside, it's like a blizzard. You'd get blown away."

Vapour shot Harry a furious look at the suggestion that she might not be able to cope with any weather, and Harry grimaced, pulling his fingers back hastily.

"Where's Sanna?" Neville asked curiously, looking over.

"She stayed at Hogwarts," Harry said. "I don't think she's a big fan of the cold - she's from a hot country, after all. I reckon she'll spend the whole holiday curled up by the fire in the kitchen, eating whatever the house elves bring her, and snoozing. It's a nice life for a snake."

\\\/

Sanna was, in fact, in front of a fire. But it wasn't in the kitchens.

" _Doesss Harry not know you are here?"_ Daphne asked Sanna, running her hand along the snakes smooth scales.

" _Of courssse,"_ Sanna hissed indignantly. " _I told him I wanted to stay where it wasss warm thisss winter. It isss true."_

 _"_ I can't believe you can speak Parseltongue," Ginny said lazily, stretching her legs out towards the common room fire. It was just the two of them sitting there, as Hermione was down in the dungeons with Professor Snape, helping with the first stage of the wolfsbane potion.

"Don't tell anyone," Daphne warned. It had been a gamble, even letting Ginny find out. But Daphne knew the youngest Weasley wouldn't have been sorted into Slytherin without good cause, and she suspected Ginny might be rather good at keeping secrets.

"I'm not telling," Ginny grinned, holding her wrist towards Sanna. The snake slithered over Daphne's arm and up Ginny's wrist, coiling herself contentedly around the redheaded girl's upper arm. "But _how_ can you do it? I thought Harry was the only one."

"I have no idea," Daphne admitted. "I just can. Nobody else knows, except my little sister. And now you."

"I forgot you had a sister," Ginny said enviously. "Can she speak it too?"

"Nope," Daphne shrugged. "Just me."

"I wonder.." Ginny said thoughtfully.

"Wonder what?" Daphne said, sitting up in the black leather armchair, and slipping her feet out of expensive black boots.

"Wonder if anyone else in the school can speak it," Ginny shrugged.

" _Sssanna?"_ Daphne asked curiously. " _Can anyone elssse in the ssschool ssspeak to you?"_

 _"No. Except the other sssnake. It getsss rather boring sometimesss."_

 _"_ No-one except someone else's pet snake apparently," Daphne said to Ginny.

Just as Ginny nodded, there was a scuffle from the direction of the doorway. Daphne had half risen from her seat, when Hermione toppled into the room, her hair awry and her clothes rumpled. There was soot on her cheeks, and her hands were stained with some yellow substance. She was clutching a red notebook tightly.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked, looking at Hermione in surprise. "What happened?"

"Professor Snape," Hermione said, a wide smile lighting up her face, in spite of her dishevelled appearance. "He let me help him prepare the ingredients."

"That's pretty good for him," Daphne admitted, yawning. "I don't think he's ever let a second year do that before."

"Sit down," Ginny said, patting the armchair next to her. "You look exhausted."

"Oh, I suppose I am," Hermione said, looking down at herself as though her body didn't really belong to her. She sat down in the chair indicated by Ginny, and yawned deeply and widely. "It was amazing," Hermione said again, sleepily. Then she closed her eyes, and a few moments later, they heard a tiny snore.

"She's gone," Ginny giggled, looking at their friend.

"Professor Snape works students to the bone when they're doing a one on one session, I've heard," Daphne said. "But just looking at her is making me tired. Let's get some sleep."

Ginny shook Hermione gently, and she awoke with a start. "Come on," Ginny said. "Bedtime."

\\\/

Sleeping on the Polar Express was a novel experience for the Ron and Neville, the two English boys, and an even more novel one for Harry, the Ugandan. After ordering an exotic dinner which they ate in their little compartment, they sat and talked late into the night. Tucked up in their bunk beds with the covers pulled up to their chins, they were warm and snug, even as the blizzard raged outside.

The train meandered through the night, through mountains and tunnels, over bridges and through villages. The snow never abated, and there was a constant howling from beyond the window. Outside, all the four boys could see was the occasional twinkling of lights from a village in the distance. Stefan said that the journey would take them all of the night, and so around midnight they blew out the little oil lanterns, and snuggled down into their bunks.

Morning brought a new look at the landscape. Harry blinked awake, noticing something different immediately. It had stopped snowing, and light was pouring into the tiny compartment. Craning his neck, Harry peered over the edge of the top bunk, to look down. Ron was still asleep, his head thrown back, snoring loudly. Neville, too, was still slumbering, albeit more gently than Ron. Stefan, however, was awake.

The Norwegian boy was sitting at the little table, still in his pajamas, staring out of the window at the landscape. He had a cup of some kind of hot drink cupped between his hands, and was watching the world flash by.

"Morning," Harry said softly, not wanting to wake Ron and Neville.

"Good morning," Stefan said, smiling. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, not at all," Harry said, yawning widely and sitting up. "What time is it?"

"Around eight, I think," Stefan frowned. "We should be there in an hour. Shall I order breakfast, or would you like to wait until we get to my home?"

"I don't mind waiting," Harry shrugged, sliding down from the bunk, narrowly avoiding stepping on Ron's sleeping face. "Wow, this is amazing."

Harry stared out of the window in awe. Instead of the pitch black and the blizzard of the previous night, they were traveling in the early morning daylight. The blue train was trundling along a track between two mountains. The behemoths were covered in snow, and the land looked like a frosted cake. Everything was white, as far as the eye could see. Here and there, dark green fir tree's poked out of the snow, looking for all the world like little Christmas trees.

"Are you sure we haven't stayed on the train to the North Pole by accident?" Harry said, staring.

"We're at the North Pole?" Neville's voice came from the bottom bunk, and Harry looked over to see the round-faced boy sleepily rubbing his eyes.

"Might as well be," Harry said. "Look at this."

Neville joined Harry at the window, and gazed out at the landscape. "Wow," he agreed.

An hour later, Ron had awoken and joined them, and the train began to slow. Up ahead, they could see a busy, bustling platform. It wasn't as big as Kings Cross, but it was large all the same, and packed with witches and wizards going about their business. As they approached, the train began to slow with a whine, until finally they came to a stop.

"Come on," Stefan said eagerly, pulling his trunk from beneath the bed. "Let's go and meet my parents."

Harry pulled out his trunk, relieved that he had charmed it to be featherlight before they left. With his luggage in one hand and Vapour in her cage in the other, they made their way through the packed train and onto the crowded platform.

"This way," Stefan called, weaving in and out of the crowd. The three boys followed, trying not to bump into anyone.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, nearly knocking over an elderly witch carrying a red handbag. The woman tutted at Harry.

Finally, Stefan came to a halt. Harry followed his gaze, and stared. They were expecting to see Stefan's parents - but instead they were met by something entirely different.

In front of them were three of the most intimidating men that Harry had ever seen. They were wearing long black robes that covered them from their neck to their ankles, and had closely shaved heads. But what really made them intimidating was their _size._ Quite simply, they were some of the biggest men Harry had ever laid eyes on, and they were all staring at the four of them with narrowed eyes.

Stefan paused in front of the men, and nodded cordially to them. "Alistair. Dimitri. Vladimir."

The man on the right who Stefan had looked at last, nodded back and spoke in a gravelly voice. "Master Skorik. If you and your companions would follow us please."

Without another word, all three men stepped forward to flank them. Exchanging glances at each other, Harry, Ron and Neville followed Stefan towards the exit, lugging their trunks. The men were like huge silent presences on all sides.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Stefan.

"Oh, these are just my bodyguards," Stefan said casually, as though there was nothing unusual about this situation.

"...bodyguards?" Neville said quietly, staring at Stefan. "Why do you need bodyguards?"

To Harry's surprise, Stefan looked rather sheepish all of a sudden, and he ducked his head as though he were a little boy caught in some wrongdoing. "Well, you remember I told you my parents were quite important?" Stefan said to Harry nervously.

"They must be," Ron snorted, looking around them. The crowds were parting as they walked through, and they were leaving the station through a large exit.

"Well, erm. My father is the..the Norwegian Minister of Magic," Stefan said quickly, his words all running together.

Harry, Ron and Neville stared at Stefan, open mouthed. "What?" Harry said, stunned. "Your father is the _Minister of Magic?_ "

"I didn't want to tell you," Stefan said nervously. "It's basically a state secret. Nobody at Durmstrang ever knew. But I thought since you're going to _meet_ them, I had to tell you."

Harry was silent for a moment, processing this. The three bodyguards led them out of the station and towards a long, shiny black limousine. All of them exchanged glances, as a chauffeur leapt from the front seat to open the back doors for them.

"Master Skorik. A pleasure to see you again," the chauffeur said warmly to Stefan, before following this with a sentence in Norwegian that Harry didn't catch, but that made Stefan smile.

Harry climbed into the limousine after Stefan, as two of the bodyguards picked up the trunks like they weighed nothing, and tossed them lightly into the boot. Harry clutched Vapour's cage to him, and Stefan had Vladimir in his arms. Harry's mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour. _Stefan's father was the Minister of Magic._ Harry knew he had to get a letter to Mad-Eye and Kingsley as soon as possible. This kind of connection was unprecedented, and could be incredibly significant.

"Nice ride," Ron whistled, settling himself in the seat across from Harry. The interior was luxurious black leather, and there was a low glass table in the middle of the back, with a fridge in the corner.

"Help yourself to drinks," Stefan smiled, gesturing at the mini fridge. "They're non-alcoholic," he added, as Ron looked suddenly hopeful.

There was a slamming of doors, as the three body guards piled into the long seat at the front. Where only a single muggle passenger might have fit, all three enormous men managed to sit side by side. The chauffeur turned and nodded to the four boys, before sliding up a screen between the front and the back.

" _We should arrive at the Skorik Castle in ten minutes,_ " a voice crackled over the intercom.

"You live in a _castle?"_ Ron said disbelievingly, staring at Stefan.

"Only a small one," Stefan said uncomfortably, opening the fridge himself and passing around bottles of butterbeer.

"Only a small one," Ron repeated blankly. "Of course."

As it turned out, Stefan did _not_ live in a small castle. In fact, it was enormous. The three guests stared out the tinted windows of the limousine as they came to a set of massive wrought iron gates, that slowly creaked open as they approached. Then they were driving up a snow covered driveway that never seemed to end, with enormous snow-laden pine trees forming a wall on either side of them. Finally, they opened out into a circular courtyard, and got their first look at the castle.

It wasn't as big as Hogwarts, Harry thought with relief. That was something. But it was still a massive structure. It looked like it could sleep hundreds of people easily, and could have been designed for balls and large parties. It was made of some kind of granite, and Harry saw four towers, one at each corner of the building. In front of the building was an attractive sculpture of a rearing centaur, made out of what looked like pale stone.

"My grandfather," Stefan said, gesturing to the statue as the car came to a halt. "Perhaps you will meet him?"

"Can't wait," Neville said in a high pitched voice.

Then the chauffeur opened their door, and the four boys piled out, blinking in the bright sunshine. "Unbelievable," Ron summarised, as they stared at the castle.

In front of them was a flight of stairs, and at the top of the stairs was a huge wooden door. As they began to follow Stefan towards the doors, they slowly creaked open of their own accord. Standing in the doorway, was a man and a woman who could only be Stefan's parents.

"Mother! Father!" Stefan cried, running forward to greet them. He kissed his mother on the cheek, and shook his fathers hand. "These are my friends."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, climbing the stairs quickly. "I'm Harry."

His first impression of Stefan's mother was that she was very beautiful, and very small. There was a fragility to her pale skin and wide dark eyes, and Harry immediately understood where Stefan had gotten his looks from. His father, by contrast, was an enormous bear of a man, with a thick beard and a barrel chest, dressed in the fur robes that they were seeing all around them.

"Harry Potter?" Stefan's father said, raising an eyebrow as he stepped forward to shake Harry's hand. "Stefan told us he would bring you to visit, but we thought he might have been exaggerating his stories of friendship with you."

"Not at all," Harry smiled. "It's very kind of you to have us here, Minister Skorik."

"Thank you for inviting us Minister," Neville agreed, puffing up the steps behind Harry with Ron. "This is an amazing place you live in."

"Nonsense!" Stefan's father roared. "None of this Minister business when I'm at home! Call me Alec."

"Alec," Harry smiled.

"And you must call me Alina," Stefan's mother said, smiling at the four boys. "I'm so overjoyed to have you in our home, and so grateful that our Stefan has made such good friends."

Harry picked up on the hope in Alina's eyes, and wondered how hard it had been for the mother to watch her son struggle through life as a werewolf.

"Come in, come in," Alec was saying, pushing the doors open with a massive hand. "Demetri and Alistair will see to your luggage, you must come and warm up inside."

The inside of the castle resembled something from mediaeval times. Everything was cold stone, but furs were everywhere, draped over chairs, used as rugs, and as throws. Thick luxurious furs, in many different shades, that felt warm just to look at.

Within ten minutes, they were situated by the biggest fire Harry had ever seen. It could have housed a small dragon, and the heat was blistering.

The main sitting room where they had been taken had stone walls with arched windows, and a series of large, comfortable chairs in front of a fire. Mounted above the fireplace was the stuffed head of a dragon, managing to look menacing even in death. Harry grimaced at the thought of what Hagrid would say if he ever saw it.

"So Stefan tells me you have become very good friends?" Alina said hopefully. The tiny woman was curled up in a chair close to the fire, sipping from a glass of amber liquid. Her eyes kept sliding to Stefan, who still wore a smile, as though she couldn't quite believe it.

"We are," Harry confirmed. "It's nice to have another guy from Slytherin."

"Yes I have heard about this house system at Hogwarts," Alina frowned. "I do not quite understand it."

Neville began to explain, with Stefan occasionally interjecting to explain a further point. Harry let his gaze drift around the walls, which were covered in portraits. It was easy to see Alina's ancestors, as they all seemed to have the same small stature, pale skin and dark eyes. But as the portraits went higher up the walls, they grew stranger. Alec's family portraits all seemed to be bare chested men, pictured from the waist up. As Harry reached the very top of the wall, he realised that they must be the centaurs. Harry shivered. Something about the half humans felt eerie to him.

"Stefan, are you going to show your friends around the grounds before lunch? The elves have been decorating for Christmas," Alina suggested, breaking through Harry's reverie.

"Of course," Stefan said, standing up. He gestured to Harry, Ron and Neville to follow him, and they walked down the hall towards a large door, which turned out to open onto a huge garden.

"Wow," Ron breathed as he followed Stefan through. Harry stepped through next, and looked up in amazement.

They were in a garden. But it was like no garden Harry had ever seen before. Large trees spread as far as the eye could see, covered in a thick layer of snow. They glittered, and as the four boys stepped into the garden, Harry realised they were decorated with thousands upon thousands of live fairies. The ground was covered with snow, and twisting sculptures of never-melting ice spiralled towards the tree canopy overhead, forming abstract shapes, and casting strange shadows.

In the distance, there was a gap in the trees. "This way," Stefan called, leading them towards the gap. "I'll show you the moat."

"Did he say moat?" Ron muttered to Harry, as they followed Stefan.

It was indeed a moat. Harry hadn't noticed it as they arrived, but the entire castle was enclosed by a large moat, that had completely frozen. Here and there, swathes of snow gusted across it.

Stefan showed them all around the grounds, and then inside. The rest of the castle had also been decorated with thousands of fairies, wreaths and ice sculptures. It was like a winter palace, and Harry commented that to Stefan as they wandered around.

"It is too big," Stefan admitted, blushing. "But father requires it for state events, and of course it is his traditional family home. He grew up here."

Harry found himself completely unable to imagine the gigantic Alec as a young boy. "What did you mean when you said your father being Minister was a state secret?" Harry asked, a moment later.

"Oh, that's not the secret," Stefan said, showing them down a narrow corridor. "I'm the secret. For the sake of our whole family's protection, nobody is supposed to know that the Minister has a son, in case anyone tries to kidnap me."

"And nobody at Durmstrang ever knew?" Neville asked sceptically, as they came out into a glass conservatory, high above the garden.

"Nobody would have cared enough to guess," Stefan said, bitterly.

Finally they finished the tour, and Harry felt as though his head had been stuffed with so many wonders he couldn't keep track of them all. The castle was a long, long way from his little hut in Uganda, or even the small and cosy Storm Cottage. Ron too was looking overwhelmed, and Harry wondered if he was thinking about the Burrow.

\\\/

In the week leading up to Christmas, Stefan showed them all the wondrous sights of his home. They had snowfights in the winter garden, and played hide and seek amongst the hidden passageways and nook and crannies of the castle. They went ice skating on the moat around the walls, and spent evenings in front of the huge fire, drinking a selection of exotic Christmas drinks that the elves prepared for them.

All through the week, Harry felt Alina and Alec watching them, as if unable to take their eyes off the sight of their son with his friends, happy. One day Alec even took them to visit the Norwegian Ministry of Magic, although he cast several spells to disguise them first. Harry was fascinated by the dealings of the Norwegian politicians, and reported as much of it as he could in his letters to Mad-Eye and Kingsley.

When Christmas day dawned, Harry woke up in the large vaulted bedchamber he had been allocated, to find a house elf shaking him.

"Master Potter must wake up," the elf squeaked, shaking Harry very hard.

"What?" Harry said sleepily, pushing the elf away from him.

"Master Potter's presence is required for Christmas morning!" The elf said eagerly. Harry sat up slowly, yawning. The elf seemed very young, and was wearing a thick fur robe that completely dwarfed his tiny frame. He looked very different to Marley, and Harry wondered house elves in different countries looked different, just like humans.

"Just let me get dressed," Harry mumbled, swinging his legs over the bed.

When Harry arrived in the main room, he found the biggest Christmas tree he had ever seen had been shifted inside, and decorated with thousands of floating golden bubbles. Beneath the tree were more presents than Harry had ever seen in his life.

"Harry," Stefan called as he came in. "At last!"

"Presents!" Ron said from the huge armchair beside Stefan. "We've been waiting for you."

Harry looked around and saw all the chairs around the fire were occupied by Stefan, Ron, Neville and Alec. Alina was sitting cross legged on the floor, and the bodyguard Vladimir stood by the door, a silent presence as always.

"This one is yours," Stefan said, gesturing to a large pile of brightly wrapped presents.

"What are you waiting for?" Alec boomed. "Dig in!"

Within moments, wrapping paper was flying everywhere, and Stefan's cat, the other Vladimir, was going mad trying to chase it all. Harry unwrapped a leather wand holster from Neville, and a book called _Flying with the Cannons_ from Ron. Hermione had sent a luxurious eagle feather quill, and Daphne had sent Harry a set of engraved silver cufflinks. Ginny had sent Harry a package of mixed sweets, and Harry was touched when he opened a homemade jumper from Mrs Weasley.

Mad-Eye and Kingsley had gifted Harry a deadly looking dagger, and had obviously collaborated with Remus and Sirius, who sent an elegant scabbard to match. _Because a wand might not always be enough,_ read Kingsley's note. Kingsley also wrote that he missed Harry, and Harry felt a twinge as he thought of the man he considered his father.

At the very bottom of the pile were three small parcels, wrapped in black paper.

"From us," Stefan said, gesturing to himself and his parents.

Harry opened the package from Stefan's mother Alina, which contained a beautiful set of leather gloves, which Harry thanked her for sincerely. The package from Stefan was small, and contained a tiny model broom.

"Thanks?" Harry said uncertainly.

"Tap it twice," Stefan grinned eagerly. Harry did as he was asked, and gasped as the broom immediately resized into a full-sized broom.

"You got me a _firebolt?_ " Harry said, thunderstruck as he stared at the racing broom.

"To say thank you," Stefan said quietly. "For everything."

Gasps from Ron and Neville revealed they had received the same present. "Stefan, I don't know what to say," Ron gulped, looking at the broom. "These aren't even available in England yet."

"You're far too generous," Neville said, looking at his own broom with delighted awe.

"Nonsense," Alina smiled. "It means more to us than we can say that Stefan has such good friends."

"Don't forget mine," Alec said to Harry, gesturing at the last parcel. Harry picked it up. The parcel was square, and very light. Tearing off the wrapping paper, Harry found a small, plain box, like one that would be used to contain jewellery. Opening it, Harry saw something dark inside.

Reaching into the box, Harry pulled out a coin-sized disk of black, glossy obsidian, attached to a long silver chain. The obsidian was engraved with strange markings, and Harry turned it over in his hands, examining it closely.

"It's lovely," Harry said after a moment, not wanting to cause offence by admitting he didn't know what it was for. Alec laughed, a deep booming laugh that resonated through the room.

"Do you know what it is, lad?" Alec asked.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head.

"It's an ambassador's emblem," Alecx said, gesturing to the markings. "It means you are under the protection of the Norwegian Ministry of Magic."

Harry gasped, as the true value of the piece revealed itself to him. "You mean..."

"I mean you can walk into any ministry in the world, and demand to see the Norwegian ambassador. The fact that you wear this emblem means that they will deny you nothing, and should you need it, get a message directly to me. They will even bring you here, if you demand it."

"I don't know what to say," Harry said, overwhelmed. The significance of this gesture was not lost on him. It might be a Christmas present, but it was also a highly political move. Norway had essentially just allied itself with Harry Potter, and the ramifications of that were staggering.

"You've been a good friend to Stefan," Alec said, placing a massive hand on Harry's shoulder. "We don't forget that. Stefan told us what happened this year, and we have never known anyone do for our boy what you did."

"Father," Stefan said, turning faintly pink.

"Stop, Alec," Alina said, patting Stefan. "You're embarrassing them."

"Very well," Alec grumbled. "But it's true."

"It is," Alina agreed. "But now I think we will be late for lunch if we don't go now, and I believe your father is planning on joining us."

As they all stood up, and began vanishing the piles of wrapping paper, Harry slipped the obsidian disc on its chain around his neck. It felt warm against his chest, hidden by his robes. It didn't feel cold like stone at all.

\\\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	32. Chapter 32

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

\\\/

Christmas Dinner at Skorik Castle was just as grand as they could have predicted it would be. The house elves prepared a feast, and when they entered the dining room, and entire boar was roasting over the fire, an apple in its mouth. The smells drifting through the room were mouth watering, and Harry looked hungrily at the table full of food, piled on silver platters.

But as Harry stepped over to the table, he noticed they weren't the first to arrive in the room. There was a man at the head of the table. Except, well, he wasn't a man at all. He was human to the waist, but then skin turned to the smooth fuzz of a horse's coat. Immediately, Harry realised who he was looking at. It had to be Stefan's grandfather

Harry didn't think he had ever seen an elderly centaur pictured anywhere before. The centaur had the body and face of an old man, with a long silver beard to rival Dumbledore's. But his body was equestrian, and a deep shaggy grey.

"Grandfather!" Stefan said as they entered the room."You're joining us?"

"I thought I ought to," the centaur said dreamily, focussing on Stefan as though from a daze. "Jupiter is shining brightly tonight. I felt the pull."

"Come and sit down," Alina whispered to Harry, Ron and Neville. "That's Alec's father Farren. I'm afraid he can take a little while to get to the point."

Harry, Ron and Neville followed Stefan's lead, and took seats around the massive oak table, which stretched the length of the hall. About ten house elves were now removing the boar from the fire, and transferring it to a huge silver serving platter, which they carefully levitated onto the table.

"Mead?" Alec asked the boys, as he took his seat in the large carved chair at the head of the table.

"No thank you," Neville declined nervously, eyeing the centaur with wary eyes.

"I'll have some," Ron said enthusiastically. Harry also held out the heavy silver goblet he had been given, and the house elves poured a quantity of the rich red liquid into it.

"Have you enjoyed this year, Grandfather?" Stefan asked the centaur, as he began to pile his plate high with meat and potatoes.

"Jupiter has been very bright this year," the elderly centaur confirmed in a slow, measured voice. "Did you remove yourself from the school, and go to England as I directed?"

"Yes grandfather," Stefan said patiently. "I told you over the summer. I'm at Hogwarts now."

"Good," Farren said calmly. Then; "Jupiter is bright tonight."

"Yes father, we heard you," Alec said impatiently. "These are Stefan's new friends. Ronald, Neville, and Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter," Farren said, peering closely at Harry. Harry felt uncomfortable: the centaur had pale silver eyes, and it was as though he was being x-rayed.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said awkwardly.

"Yes, for once the stars were very clear indeed," the centaur said, suddenly looking very pleased about something, and trotting closer to the table with a soft clip clopping of his hooves on the flagstones. "Oh yes. Send the boy to England, his destiny lies with the scarred one."

"The _scarred_ one?" Harry said, pausing with his goblet halfway to his mouth.

"Oh yes," Farren said happily, accepting a goblet of mead. "The scarred one. You, Harry Potter."

"Grandfather stop it," Stefan protested, shooting Harry an apologetic look. "You're making our guests uncomfortable." Indeed, Ron and Neville looked thoroughly bewildered, and Harry himself couldn't say he was entirely unsorry that Stefan had intervened.

"Jupiter is bright tonight," Farren said, ignoring Stefan, and turning to the fire.

"Sorry about that," Alec said, passing plates down the long table. "Father has always been like that. Centaur's are just a bit...odd."

"It's no problem," Harry said, not entirely truthfully.

The evening soon picked up again, with Alec telling them stories of Christmases of his childhood in this very house, and the house elves performing a series of Christmas songs. Harry was dragged into telling them about Christmas in Uganda, and Neville talked about his usual family traditions. Still, Harry felt Farren the centaur's eyes upon him throughout the meal, and no matter how they joked, he still felt an uncomfortable crawling sensation.

After what seemed like hours, Alex finally scraped his chair back noisily from the table, and directed them all to go to bed. Harry and the other three boys climbed the steps up one of the towers wearily, not speaking much. Harry was already imagining his large, soft bed.

"Goodnight," Harry said quietly when they reached his door.

"Goodnight," the other three murmured back, before carrying on up the stairs.

When Harry entered his room, he saw that his presents had all been taken upstairs, presumably by the house elf that had woken him up. Smiling to himself, Harry began undressing for bed. But before he could pull his pajamas on, he saw something outside the window.

Harry squinted, trying to see what it was. It was some kind of strange shadow. As Harry stepped closer, he realised it was a owl.

Harry cursed the stiff old windows in the castle as he struggled to open the latch and let the owl in. Finally he managed it, and the window opened with a creak and a groan. A beautiful snowy owl fluttered in, and crashed to the floor. The opened window had let in a blast of icy air, and Harry slammed it shut behind the bird quickly, latching it tightly. Then he turned to the owl.

" _Sienna?_ " Harry said, bewildered. The owl looked exactly like Daphne's owl. Harry picked the owl up from the floor, and it hooted feebly at him. It didn't seem harmed, just exhausted. Harry set it gently on his desk, before detaching the letter from its leg. He borrowed Vapour's water bowl, and set it in front of the owl, who began gulping water immediately.

Meanwhile, Harry unrolled the letter. It was written on thick, expensive looking parchment, and covered in the swooping, fancy penmanship that Harry recognised immediately as belonging to Daphne.

Harry scanned the letter quickly, his eyebrows raising with each line. When he reached the bottom, he stared, unable to take in the news. And then he sat down suddenly.

"Shit," Harry muttered to himself. "Oh merlin, this is all we need."

Pulling a robe over himself, Harry dashed up the next flight of stairs towards Stefan's room. Ron and Neville were also in rooms on the top floor.

"Ron, you need to come with me!" Harry said hastily, sticking his head into Ron's room. The redhead was sitting in bed with his present from Susan Bones; a book on further Mandrake studies, and looked up, startled at Harry's words.

"Harry, what's the matter?"

But before Ron could specify his question, Harry had moved on to Neville's room. Finally, all four of them were together in Stefan's room.

"What is it Harry?" Neville asked, puffing. "What's this about?"

Harry took a deep breath. "We have to go back to Hogwarts. This is an emergency."

"What's happened?" Stefan said, getting to his feet immediately. Wordlessly, Harry passed Stefan the letter. Stefan scanned the parchment, and went white.

"What's going on?" Ron said irritably. Stefan passed the letter to Ron, and Neville crowded closer to read it.

"Oh no," Neville said weakly. "Oh no."

Ron gulped. He had gone very pale. "We have to go back," he said hoarsely.

"What's the soonest we can be there?" Harry asked Stefan.

"The floo doesn't work on Christmas day," Stefan said miserably. "We can get the train tomorrow, but everything is slower on holiday days. We won't get there until the 30th."

"Are you joking?" Harry demanded, staring at Stefan in disbelief. "How can the floo not work?"

"The Ministry is closed on Christmas day, and everything is shut down magically. There's no way to reopen it."

"Your father is the Minister of Magic!" Harry exclaimed. "If anyone can do it, he can!"

"He can't," Stefan said, shaking his head. "This is high level magic, and it's designed not to be messed with by anyone. Even the Minister."

"Then we have to portkey."

"Banned," Stefan said unhappily. "Private portkeys are illegal, as criminals use them to avoid arrest."

Harry fell back against the wall and groaned. "People are in danger," he exclaimed. "Our friends!"

"They'll be alright Harry," Neville soothed. "They won't go looking for trouble. And we'll see them in a few days."

Harry sighed. "I hope you're right," he said grimly. "But we return as soon as possible."

\\\/

No one, not even someone with as many things on their mind as Daphne, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed.

Daphne, Hermione and Ginny sat with the other students who had remained behind. There were very few of them. Only a couple of seventh year Slytherins, a fifth year Gryffindor, a first year Ravenclaw, and, most surprisingly, Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. Hard as she tried to dislike the cheerful girl, Daphne had already found it impossible. Susan was just too good natured to dislike.

"Hello you three," the plump girl said merrily, heading in the direction of the trio the moment she spotted them. "What keeps you at Hogwarts this holiday?"

"Trying to catch the heir of Slytherin," Daphne said dryly. The little first year Ravenclaw, a blonde, ethereal looking girl, gave terrified squeak at Daphne's words, and leapt to her feet, hurrying from the hall.

"Shush Daphne," Hermione said reprovingly. "Come and sit down Susan. We're here because I'm working with Professor Snape over the holiday."

"Ooh go you," Susan said approvingly, taking a seat with them and pulling a Christmas pudding towards her. "You must be very good at potions. I remember you were going great shakes when we were working on those Mandrakes."

"She's brilliant," Ginny nodded.

"So what keeps you at Hogwarts this Christmas?" Hermione asked, in the lull that followed.

"Aunty is busy at work," Susan said regretfully, loading up her fork with pudding. "So I don't have anywhere to go."

"You're welcome to spend time with us," Hermione said. Daphne scowled, but Hermione ignored it. Daphne sighed loudly. Spending time with Ravenclaws was one thing. Hufflepuffs, entirely another.

"I'd like that," Susan beamed, also ignoring Daphne. "I'm on my own a lot, with all the Hufflepuffs going home."

Daphne muttered to herself, but nobody was listening. Scowling, the blonde girl attacked her pudding more violently. Even Sanna had disappeared, and Daphne found she missed the snake's conversation. She wondered where Sanna was, and supposed she was probably asleep in front of a fire somewhere.

"Well I'd better get back," Susan said, a little while later. The teachers were very tipsy by this point, even Professor McGonagall was smiling, her usual witches hat having been charmed bright pink. Professor Snape was still looking as though there was a bad taste in his mouth, which pleased Daphne. As least _Slytherin_ retained its decorum.

"See you Susan," Hermione waved, as the plump girl departed.

"Bye," Daphne murmured.

"You could at least _try_ to be nice," Hermione scolded.

"I am nice," Daphne said, aware that she sounded like a petulant child.

"Susan's lovely," Hermione said with a sigh.

When dessert finished and the golden plates were all sparkling and clean, the three girls stood to leave the table. Professor Snape nodded at them as they left, and Hermione waved merrily. Immediately Professor Snape's expression soured. He now looked like he had contracted a bad case of toothache. Daphne smirked at Hermione's crestfallen expression.

They wandered through the entrance hall, and meandered slowly in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories. The three of them walked towards the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane.

Daphne was halfway down the passage when she tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

"Careful," Ginny said, grabbing Daphne's arm.

They all turned to squint at what she'd fallen over and suddenly Daphne felt as though her stomach had dissolved.

Susan Bones was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on her plump face, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to her was another figure, the strangest sight Daphne had ever seen.

It was The Fat Friar, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was lolling to one side, and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Susan's.

Daphne jumped backwards, her breathing fast and shallow, her heart doing a kind of drumroll against her ribs. She looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. Hermione and Ginny were staring with wide, horrified eyes.

"Oh my god," Hermione choked, taking a step backwards. " _Susan."_

"Is she alive?" Daphne asked, feeling like a coward for not wanting to approach the cold body.

"I don't know," Ginny whispered. "We have to get help."

Daphne wanted to suggest that they left, and pretended they had never seen a thing. But one look at Hermione and Ginny's faces told her that suggestion was never going to go down well.

"Stay with her Daphne," Hermione said hastily. "And you Ginny, in case it comes back. I'll go and get the teachers."

With that, Hermione hurried away, leaving Daphne and Ginny alone with nothing but the cold, damp corridor, and the bodies.

"What could do something like that?" Ginny breathed, staring at Susan.

"What," Daphne said grimly. "Or who."

The minutes they had to wait for Hermione to return felt like hours, and the seconds ticked by with agonising slowness. Daphne felt her heart pound faster at every little noise, but they didn't move. Their silent vigil was finally broken by footsteps.

"Hermione?" Daphne called. The footsteps paused, and then came closer. But it wasn't Hermione.

"You!" Daphne said. It was the little blonde first year Ravenclaw that they had seen in the Great Hall. "You left dinner early, I saw you!"

"Luna?" Ginny said softly . "Are you alright?"

The little blonde girl looked terrified as she took in the bodies in front of them. Her lip trembled, and she seemed on the verge of tears. Daphne glared at her fiercely.

"How did you know to come here?" Daphne hissed. "You're a Ravenclaw, why didn't you go back to your tower?"

Luna seemed quite speechless. As Daphne watched with hard eyes, tears welled up in her eyes and overflowed down her cheeks. Ginny rose to her feet, and put her arm around the slight girl.

"Stop it," Ginny said to Daphne. "Luna's only a first year. She had _nothing_ to do with this."

"I don't believe you," Daphne hissed, looking harder at Luna, who was clutching some kind of book in her hand. Daphne could just feel something was wrong. It was hard to notice, but it was there. Luna looked like a little angel, pale and fragile looking. But Daphne was an expert at sensing dark magic, and there was just the faintest scent of it hanging around the little Ravenclaw. Daphne _knew._

Luna whimpered, backing away from the scene. Suddenly there came a loud clattering of footsteps along the corridor, and Professor McGonagall burst into view, closely followed by Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh my goodness," Professor McGonagall said, coming to a halt and clutching her heart. Hermione bobbed out behind, her eyes taking in the scene.

"We just found them like this," Hermione said weakly.

"It was her," Daphne snarled, pointing at Luna.

"What?" Professor McGonagall turned to stare at Daphne. "Don't be absurd."

"Stop it Daphne," Ginny said, looking awkwardly at her feet.

Daphne raged inwardly, but fell silent as the teachers bent over the bodies, examining them closely. Professor Dumbledore waved his wand over Susan a few a times, and nodded his head.

"Petrified," he said softly.

Susan was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for the Fat Friar. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Hermione with instructions to waft the Fat Friar up the stairs. This Hermione did, fanning the Friar along like a silent black hovercraft.

Daphne and Ginny were dismissed, and Luna was escorted back to Ravenclaw by Professor Flitwick, who seemed to think she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Daphne made sure she fixed the girl with a hard stare as she left. _I know._ Daphne said silently. _I've got you now._

Later that night, the three girls wrote a letter to the boys, detailing everything that had happened.

"Harry might come back, you know," Ginny said, as they rolled up the letter. "It's the sort of thing he'd do."

"Worried about us helpless females." Daphne rolled her eyes, as they headed up to the owlery.

"Not helpless anymore." Ginny gave a wicked smile, and gestured to her leg. Daphne smirked. Ronald could say what he wanted about his little sister, but Ginny now sported a stiletto dagger identical to Daphne's, in a holster strapped to her inner thigh.

"Sienna" Daphne called, as they entered the owlery. Her snowy white owl fluttered down from the rafters with a friendly hoot. Daphne stroked Sienna's feathers. "I've for a job for you girlie," she said gently.

Sienna hooted happily, and extended her leg. Daphne tied the letter on securely. "It's for Harry Potter," she told the owl. "He's in Norway. I hope you won't have any trouble finding him."

Sienna hooted indignantly at the suggestion that she might have trouble finding anyone, and spread her wings, taking flight towards the open skies. Daphne, Ginny and Hermione stood at the edge and watched her until Sienna disappeared into the distance.

"That's that," Daphne said at last. "Shall we go back to Slytherin and hope we don't get attacked before the end of the holidays?"

For a few days, nothing happened. The three girls went everywhere together, feeling that there was at least a modicum of safety in numbers. Hermione and Professor Snape were now at work brewing up a fresh batch of Mandrake solution, which they hoped would be ready within days, so Susan could tell them who had attacked her. Daphne knew, but nobody else would believe a thing about Luna. So Daphne hopefully waited for the hammer to fall.

Harry wrote back immediately, declaring that the four boys would be returning to Hogwarts the day before new year, as it was clearly not a safe environment. Harry also expressed disbelief that the teachers had done nothing to notify the authorities, or even contact Susan's aunt. Daphne privately agreed, but none of the teachers seemed inclined to discuss the matter.

On the morning before New Year, Daphne awoke early, and lay in bed thinking. Harry and the others would be returning to Hogwarts that day, and perhaps they would believe her about Luna.

After breakfast, the three girls made the trip up to the hospital wing to visit Susan. Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no point talking to a petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to Susan. It was plain that Susan didn't have the faintest inkling that she had visitors, and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"I just can't believe this is happening," Ginny said shakily. Daphne said nothing at all. She had bumped into the little blonde Luna this morning, and given her the most vicious glare she could muster.

"It'll be over soon," Hermione said comfortingly. "The Mandrake solution is nearly ready, and then she can tell us exactly who did this to her."

They left the hospital wing in low spirits, and headed slowly towards the staircase. But before they reached the great hall, they heard a voice.

Echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified. "All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."

Ginny wheeled around to stare at Daphne and Hermione.

"Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Hermione aghast. "Go back to the dormitory? Harry and the others will arrive any minute!"

"No," said Daphne, glancing around. There was no-one in sight. "Let's go to the staffroom, and tell them the boys are coming back. It's dangerous to have people in the school that nobody knows about."

They ran down the corridors, and arrived at the staffroom before any of the teachers. They went straight into the deserted staffroom. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs.

Then the staffroom door banged open, and teachers began filtering in. All of them stopped short at the sight of the three girls.

"What's going on - what? What're you three doing here?" Professor McGonagall asked furiously, pushing her way to the front.

"Please," Hermione said trembling. "Harry and the boys are arriving back at Hogwarts today. We thought you needed to know."

Professor McGonagall stared at Hermione, and then put a hand to her head. "This is the last thing we need," she murmured weakly.

Suddenly Professor Dumbledore was there, and the teachers quietened immediately. Daphne had never seen the placid old man look so dangerous. He spoke a few words quietly to Professor McGonagall, and then turned to the three girls.

"Return to your dormitories immediately," Professor Dumbledore said, the usual twinkle absent from his eyes. "You cannot be here."

"What's happened?" Daphne asked coldly. She stared right at the headmaster, refusing to be intimidated.

Professor Dumbledore simply frowned, but Professor McGonagall looked at them and sighed very deeply. "You might as well know," she murmured. "The news will be out soon enough. It has happened," she told the silent staffroom. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' "

Professor Flitwick burst into tears. "Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Luna Lovegood," said Professor McGonagall.

Daphne felt her knees almost give out. "No," she breathed. Beside Daphne, Hermione gasped, and covered her face with her hands.

"What happens now?" Ginny asked, looking around at the silent faces. Most seemed too appalled to speak.

"The students will have to return to their homes," Professor Dumbledore said heavily. "Until we find the culprit."

"I meant about _Luna_ ," Ginny said.

But it was Professor Flitwick who answered. "There is no hope," he said to Ginny, his eyes red. "Nobody in living memory knows where the Chamber of Secrets lies. It may never be found. Miss Lovegood is dead."

"You're not even going to look?" Daphne regained her voice, staring around at the teachers.

"And where would you suggest we start?" Professor Dumbledore asked Daphne gently.

"I don't know," Daphne seethed. "It's _your_ school."

"I'm sorry Miss Greengrass," Professor Snape spoke up from the corner. "The headmaster is correct. Now you must return to your dormitory until we give you further instructions."

Hermione hadn't said a word. She had her hands pressed to her mouth, and looked to be on the verge of tears. But at Professor Snape's words, she raised her head. "What about the Mandrake solution?" Hermione whispered.

"I cannot allow you to endanger yourself by continuing to assist," Professor Snape shook his head. "However, Miss Bones will be restored no doubt within days."

Daphne felt sick. Susan restored. Luna dead. It was unthinkable. Without a word, she turned to the door and left, brushing past the silent staff. Hermione and Ginny followed behind like a funeral procession.

\\\/

It was probably the worst day of Daphne's entire life. She and Hermione sat together in a corner of the Slytherin common room, unable to say anything to each other. Ginny wasn't there. She had gone to send an owl to Luna's father, and then shut herself up in her dormitory.

No afternoon ever lasted as long as that one, nor had the two ever been so quiet. The only distraction came when Harry's owl Vapour arrived, bearing the missive that they would be there by evening.

"This is my fault," Daphne said wretchedly. "I accused her of being the attacker. Now they've taken her."

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said dully, but there was no real conviction in her words.

Daphne could imagine the sun sinking, blood-red, below the skyline. This was the worst she had ever felt. If only there was something they could do Anything.

Suddenly there was a noise from by Daphne's feet. She looked down to see the flickering green scales of Harry's little snake, Sanna.

" _Oh, hello,"_ Daphne hissed softly. " _You've come back. Where have you been?"_

But as Daphne peered down, she noticed Sanna seemed to be in a state of high distress. Or at least, as distressed as a snake can look." _What's wrong?"_ Daphne asked, concerned.

" _Come, help,"_ Sanna hissed violently. " _Big-snake needs help. Doesn't want to kill, can't help it. Yellow-hair victim die hunt help, quick, quick."_

 _"What are you talking about?"_ Daphne asked, sitting up straighter.

" _Big-snake got yellow-girl. Yellow-girl going to die. Help, quick, come."_

 _"_ Luna," Daphne said out loud, startled into understand. "You know where Luna is."

Sanna stared unblinkingly up at Daphne, who got to her feet, almost tripping over herself in her haste. "Hermione!" Daphne said loudly. Hermione jerked, startled.

"What?"

"Sanna knows where Luna is. Quick! Get Ginny. We have to save her!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione said, blinking up at Daphne in astonishment. Daphne explained as quickly as she could, but Hermione began shaking her head immediately.

"Don't be ridiculous. We can't leave the dormitory - it's too dangerous."

"Did I hear my name?" Ginny's head appeared at the top of the stairs, her face pale and wan.

Quickly, Daphne told Ginny. Hermione turned to stare at the little snake. "You can speak to snakes?" Hermione said incredulously.

"That's not the point right now," Daphne said quickly. "We've got to go!"

"Tell the teachers maybe. But we can't follow the snake," Hermione said decidedly.

 _"Hurry,_ " Sanna interrupted suddenly, flicking her tail agitatedly.

"No time!" Daphne hissed at Hermione furiously. Her guilt was rising like a bubbling lake inside her. If she didn't do everything she could to save Luna, she would never be able to look at her own face in the mirror again. "You go tell the teachers then. But I'm following Sanna. And I'm doing it now."

"I'll come with you," Ginny said immediately, standing up and shrugging off her cloak.

"No way," Daphne and Hermione said in the same breath.

"You're only a first year," Daphne said, shaking her head. "I'll go. You stay and wait for the boys. Maybe they can bash some sense into Dumbledore."

"I'm not staying," Ginny said defiantly. "I'm a first year, but I've got a wand and a very sharp knife. And you can't stop me."

Daphne looked into Ginny's fierce brown eyes, and saw the determination in them. She knew it would be futile to argue.

"Fine," Daphne said wearily. "But for the love of Merlin, please don't get yourself killed. The boys would _never_ forgive me."

"I'll be fine," Ginny said. "Sharp knife, remember?"

\\\/

 **This is a little part of the story that I've edited out because it's difficult to fit in, and doesn't really add much to the plot - but since Harry was given Vapour as a child, he never went to the shop to select Hedwig. Instead, a little future Slytherin girl went into Eeylops and selected her. Daphne called her new pet Sienna. (** _ **Basically my Harry couldn't have Hedwig, but I couldn't bear to lose her from the story.)**_

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	33. Chapter 33

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

 **\\\/**

"A _bathroom?_ "

Daphne was incredulous. She had almost forgotten her guilt in the face of this new revelation. "A bathroom," she repeated, turning slowly around and staring at the toilet stalls and sinks. "The opening to the Chamber of Secrets, the most important discovery for any Slytherin _ever_ \- is in a bloody bathroom."

"I may not have grown up choking on Slytherin doctrine like you, but even I think this is silly," Ginny agreed. "Can you imagine Salazar Slytherin just deciding to make the entrance here?"

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Daphne had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

"Who are _you_?"

Both girls spun around to see a squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Daphne had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

"Who're you?" Ginny asked curiously.

The ghost fixed Ginny with a look of deep distrust. "Don't pretend!" She said shrilly. ""D'you think I don't know what you're doing here?"

"Erm, what are we doing here?" Ginny asked. Annoyed by the waste of time, Daphne meanwhile turned to Sanna.

" _How do we get in?"_

 _"Through the sink,"_ Sanna supplied helpfully.

" _...where?"_

 _"Just ask it to open? That's how big-snake does it."_

Behind Daphne, Myrtle's voice had risen to a wail. "- know what people call me behind my back! Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!" Ginny looked slightly helpless in the face of the tirade, and seemed to be regretting ever asking Myrtle anything.

"Open _?"_ Daphne said tentatively to the sink. Nothing happened.

Sanna made a choking sound, which was the closest to laughter a snake could get. " _Wrong language."_

"Oh!" Daphne turned to the sink again. " _Open up_ ," she said.

Except that the words weren't what she heard; a strange hissing had escaped her, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a person to slide into.

Myrtle's voice stopped entirely, and Ginny gasped. "It's really there," she breathed. Daphne stared at the hole. There were a thousand thoughts in her mind, and very part of her wanted to run away from this horrible hole in the middle of the bathroom. But -

"I'm going down there," Daphne said. She had made up her mind. She couldn't not go, not now they had found the entrance to the Chamber, not if there was even the faintest, slimmest, wildest chance that Luna might be alive.

"Me too," said Ginny.

There was a pause.

"What are you doing?" For once, Myrtle didn't sound whiney. She sounded genuinely curious.

Daphne lost her patience at the delays. "We're going down to the Chamber of Secrets to face what seems to be a giant snake, to try and rescue a girl that got taken down there earlier and might already be dead, and possibly to face the heir of Slytherin," she snapped. Myrtle, however, didn't seem fazed. On the contrary, her eyes lit up.

"She went down there earlier," Myrtle told them brightly. "Probably dead by now."

" _What?_ "

"The girl? Little thing, she went down there earlier. If she dies while you're there, do you think you could persuade her to become a ghost? It would be nice to have some company sometimes."

Daphne and Ginny stared blankly at the ghost of Moaning Myrtle. "Thanks for informing someone," Ginny summed it up. "Do you _want_ her to die?"

"Don't answer that," Daphne snapped, as Myrtle began to nod happily. "We need to go _now."_

But even as Daphne turned to the gaping hole in the middle of the bathroom, there was a bang behind them. All three girls spun around as the bathroom door crashed into the wall. Standing in the doorway, panting slightly, was Hermione. She took in the sight of the Daphne and Ginny and the ghost of Moaning Myrtle, and blinked.

"Oh dear," Hermione said weakly.

"What happened?" Ginny said urgently. "Are they coming?"

"Nobody listened," Hermione said wretchedly. "Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick have gone to see Luna's father, and Snape and Sprout have gone to the Ministry of Magic. The other teachers wouldn't listen! They said to wait for Professor Dumbledore to come back!"

Daphne said a very unladylike word. Ginny scowled deeply at the hole. "Guess it's just us then," she muttered.

"Can I come?"

The three girls turned in surprise to look at Moaning Myrtle. "Why do you want to come?" Daphne asked suspiciously.

Myrtle looked sheepish. "If the girl's dead, I might be able to persuade her to become a ghost. I'd really like some company sometimes."

Shaking her head in disgust, Daphne shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said. "But no more time wasting. It's now or never. I'll go first."

"I'm right behind you," Ginny said bravely. Hermione gave a sort of nervous squeak, but nodded. Myrtle looked nothing short of delighted by the turn events had taken. Daphne leant down to the bathroom floor, and extended her hand towards Sanna. The little snake wrapped herself firmly around Daphne's wrist. Daphne stood, and approached the opening. She lowered herself slowly into the pipe, then let go.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. She could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and she knew that he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. Behind her she could hear Hermione or Ginny, thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as she had begun to worry about what would happen when she hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and she shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in.

Daphne stood up and looked around, disgusted at the filth she was covered in. She moved out of the way as Ginny came out behind her. The younger girl got to her feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost. They both stood aside as Hermione came whizzing out of the pipe, too.

"We must be miles under the school," said Hermione, her voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," said Daphne, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

All three of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead. Suddenly there was a delighted laugh behind them, and they turned to see the ghost of Myrtle standing at the bottom of the pipe, looking around with fascination. "I've never been here before," the ghost said, sounding as though she was commenting on a holiday destination. "Nice, isn't it? I might spend more time here."

The three girls ignored the ghost. "Lumos!" Daphne muttered to her wand and it lit again. "Let's go," she said to Ginny and Hermione, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor. The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

"I just wish we knew what it is" Daphne said quietly as they walked cautiously forward, "How does a big snake petrify someone."

"It didn't petrify me," Myrtle snorted. The three girls spun around to stare at the ghost. Myrtle was picking a spot on her chin, floating along idly with her feet trailing above the ground.

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked sharply.

"The snake. It didn't petrify me - obviously," Myrtle said, her voice rising to a wail, gesturing at her insubstantial body. "It - it - _killed_ me."

" _What?_ "

Myrtle seemed to be enjoying their shock. "Oh yes," she said happily. "Didn't I mention that?"

The three girls exchanged glances, and Ginny stepped forward. Her eyes were fierce. "Myrtle, you've got exactly thirty seconds to tell us how you died, before I blast you back up the tunnel," the little redhead threatened.

Myrtle didn't bat an eyelid. Indeed, she looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question, and floated a foot higher to have a good vantage point.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened in the bathroom, in my favourite stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own  
toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" said Ginny.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. . . ." She looked dreamily at Ginny. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"But how do you know?" Daphne asked impatiently. "If you never saw the attacker."

"Oh I didn't see it that time," Myrtle said vaguely. "But after all these years, the snake started coming out again and I knew what it was at last."

"Basilisk," Hermione said, her face as white as a sheet. "That's the only explanation."

"That was what they called it!" Myrtle said brightly, clapping her hands together.

"The eyes can kill," Hermione said to Daphne and Ginny. "I don't know how Susan or Vladimir survived, but don't look it in the eyes, no matter what you do."

 _"Big-snake can't help it,_ " Sanna said indignantly.

Daphne felt her skin crawl, and the desire to head straight back up the pipe and pretend none of this had happened was very strong. But she forced herself to imagine little Luna Lovegood, and steeled herself.

"Come on," Daphne said roughly. "We're wasting time. Just close your eyes if you see anything moving."

The three girls and their strange guide wandered further down the tunnel. Sanna had dropped to the ground, and slithered in front of them, leading the way. They kept their ears alert for any sound. But the tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ginny stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Daphne lowered her wand to look at the floor and saw that it was littered with small animal bones. Trying very  
hard not to imagine what Luna might look like if they found her, Daphne led the way forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

"Daphne — there's something up there —" said Ginny hoarsely, grabbing Daphne's shoulder.

They froze, watching. Daphne could just see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.

"Maybe it's asleep," she breathed, glancing back at the other three. Hermione's hands were pressed over her eyes. Daphne turned back to look at the thing, her heart beating so fast it hurt.

F

" _It's just skin,"_ Sanna said, flicking her head towards Daphne.

"What did she say?" Ginny asked in a high pitched voice.

"It's just skin," Daphne slowly, her eyes as narrow as she could make them and still see, Daphne edged forward, her wand held high. The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

"Oh my," said Hermione weakly.

"Keep going," Daphne said relentlessly, setting off past the snake skin, following the little form of Sanna.

The tunnel turned and turned again. Every nerve in Daphne's body was tingling unpleasantly. She wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what she'd find when it did. And then, at last, as they crept around yet another bend, they saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

They three girls, one ghost, and the snake approached. Daphne's throat was very dry. The stone snakes looked almost real; their eyes looked strangely  
alive.

 _"Make it open_ ," Sanna said, sliding over the rock.

Daphne could guess what she had to do. She cleared her throat, and the emerald eyes seemed to flicker. Hermione whimpered." _Open_ ," said Daphne, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpent's parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and the three girls glanced at each other. Hermione was shaking like a leaf, and Ginny looked almost as pale as Moaning Myrtle. Daphne made sure her wand was firmly in her grasp, and then followed Sanna inside.

They were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

Her heart beating very fast, Daphne stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Luna?

 _"Where is the snake?_ " Daphne asked Sanna.

" _Further,_ " Sanna said, sliding forwards again.

Daphne pulled out her wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep they made echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. She kept her eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following them. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, she thought she saw one stir.

Then, as they drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Daphne had to crane her neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor.

"Salazar Slytherin," Daphne said in respectful awe.

"Look!" Daphne followed Ginny's outstretched finger.

Between the stone feet, face down, lay a small, black-robed figure with pale blonde hair.

"Luna!" Hermione ran towards the little girl, and fell to her knees beside her. Daphne hung back, wary. Whoever had brought Luna here had to be somewhere around.

"Is she alive?" Ginny called, following Daphne's example and not moving.

"I don't know," Hermione said, sounding terrified as she tried to feel for a pulse. "She's cold, and she won't wake up..."

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Daphne nearly bit her tongue suppressing a scream and spun around. She had been watching everywhere closely, but she hadn't seen the boy appear.

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Daphne were looking at him through a misted window.

"Who are you?" Daphne asked, trying to keep her voice steady. But before the apparition could answer, there was a screech from beside her.

"How dare you!"

It was Moaning Myrtle, and she looked livid. "Tom Riddle you disgusting excuse for a ghost, how dare you come back into my bathroom and cause trouble again! Wasn't killing me enough for you?"

Daphne felt her heart stop, and her blood freeze in her veins. Like any pureblood girl, she knew exactly who Tom Riddle was. It was difficult to resist her early conditioning, and not simply fall to her knees. Daphne stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"Are you a ghost?" Daphne said uncertainly.

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

He pointed toward the floor near the statue's giant toes. Lying open there was a little black diary. Daphne frowned. Now she was looking at it, the scent of dark magic coming from the little book was overwhelming.

"I don't understand," Daphne admitted. She stepped closer to Tom Riddle, noticing from the corner of her eye that Hermione and Ginny were trying to move Luna. Myrtle hovered by Daphne's shoulder, shooting dark looks at Riddle.

"I didn't expect you to," Riddle drawled. "Slytherin, aren't you? How odd, that you should come here."

'Not odd," Daphne said coolly, forcing herself to achieve her usual demeanor. "Natural, even, that a Slytherin might come here."

"Yes, well." Riddles face suddenly darkened as he looked at the others. "How ridiculous. Three girls and a ghost. Where is Harry Potter?"

The sudden question surprised Daphne, and she looked up to see Riddle looking greedily at her, waiting for the answer. "You expected him to come, didn't you?" Daphne said slowly. Riddle scowled fiercely, but didn't answer.

"Why?" Daphne asked, slowly looking at the scene around them. "How did this happen? Why did you expect Harry here? And what's wrong with Luna?"

"The diary," said Riddle, his scowl deepening. "My diary. Little Luna's been writing in it for months and months. Filling it with the most ridiculous nonsense until I thought I was going to go mad from hearing about another creature." Riddle tossed his handsome head arrogantly. " But I persevered. I was kind. I was patient, and I wrote back. It's been very _boring._ But finally, little Luna began to open up to me."

"You bastard," Daphne said coldly. "What did you do to her?"

"She told me everything," Riddle continued lazily. "How her mother died, and she missed her. How her father was never there, and how she had hoped school would be better - only it wasn't. How everyone teased her and called her loony - and I can quite see why - and how she thought she would never make a single friend. How she had thought that _Harry Potter_ might be her friend, since he had spoken to her in Diagon Alley at the start of the year - but then nothing ever happened, and she was so _lonely._ "

"You're disgusting," Daphne said, her voice shaking with rage.

"I was a very good friend to Luna," Riddle said, his eyes fixed hungrily on Daphne. "I listened so patiently. I was the friend she had always wanted. _Nobody has ever understood me like you Tom...I wish you were real Tom...I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in..."_ Riddle laughed. It was a high, cold laugh that made the hairs on the back of Daphne's neck stand up.

"What kind of dark magic _are_ you?" Daphne asked, staring at Riddle's pale face. Was it her imagination, or was he growing more solid?

"I am something that a little girl like you could never imagine," Riddle hissed, staring coldly at Daphne. "And something you will never get the chance to."

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked, risking a quick glance around. Hermione and Ginny had pulled Luna's body over to one wall, and were crouching beside her, clearly afraid to interrupt.

Riddle sighed, and looked around the room. His handsome face was at odds with the cold surroundings, and Daphne shivered. "I really hoped Harry Potter would be the one to come," Riddle said. "But no matter. As little Luna dies, I return to life. And then I will deal with Potter."

"You're taking her life force," Daphne said, horrified.

"Well observed," Riddle drawled, still examining the rest of the room. Then he turned and locked Daphne's frightened gaze. "But enough! I have been cheated of my fun today, and the basilisk is hungry. I was going to send him hunting, but since you've so _kindly_ come along..."

Daphne stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise his wand. But Riddle's twisted smile was widening again. "Now, what was your name again?"

"Daphne," she said, although she didn't mean to.

"And I'm Myrtle," the ghost beside Daphne said, sounding indignant that she hadn't been asked.

"Well Daphne, I'm going to teach you a little lesson," Riddle said, smiling. "It's a shame really, wasting a Slytherin like yourself. But...let's match  
the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against...well, three girls and a ghost, shall we?"

Riddle cast an amused eye over Myrtle, who hissed crossly, then walked away. Daphne, fear spreading up her numb legs, watched Riddle stop between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed — but Daphne understood what he was saying. . . .

" _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four._ "

Sanna loosened herself from Daphne's wrist, and slithered to the ground. _"Big-snake is coming,"_ she hissed frantically. " _Big-snake cannot disobey orders. Kill the ghost-boy."_

 _"How?"_ Daphne hissed back, dashing across the chamber towards Hermione and Ginny. Sanna didn't answer.

"Daphne!" Ginny gasped, as Daphne stopped next to the wall where the other girls had moved Luna. The little blonde Ravenclaw was slumped against the wall. She looked cold, white and almost dead.

"The basilisk is coming!" Daphne said. "We have to get out of here!"

"Luna's going to die," Hermione said faintly. "Unless we stop Riddle."

"Take out the eyes," Ginny said suddenly, fumbling under her robes. She pulled out her stiletto dagger, then swapped it to her left hand, holding her wand in her right. "They eyes are what kills, right? don't know a spell for that. Can you two do it if I distract it?"

"No!" Hermione gasped, but Daphne was already nodding.

"Blasting curse," she said to Hermione. "I'll get the right eye. You get the left. Shoot as many spells as you can with your eyes closed until- Myrtle!"

"What?" The ghost yawned, drifting slowly over to them. Her mouth was downturned as she looked at the scene unfolding.

"Can you tell us when it's safe to look?"

"Maybe," Myrtle shrugged.

Then there wasn't any more time to confer. They all wheeled around to look up at the statue. Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Daphne saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole. And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.

Daphne sprinted across the chamber, ignoring Riddle. "Ready? Ready? Now Hermione, now!" Daphne screamed, ducking her head as she saw the first glimpse of a scaly snout appear.

Daphne squeezed her eyes closed, and shot as many blasting spells as she could in the direction of the snake. She knew that the spells couldn't penetrate the thick hide of the monster, but the soft eyes would prove a weak point. From the other side of the chamber, she could hear Hermione shouting the blasting curse, and Ginny screeching like a banshee.

"The eyes are gone!" Myrtle shouted triumphantly, with more energy than Daphne had ever heard from the ghost. Opening her eyes a slit, Daphne saw it was true.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and it's great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing Daphne, and it turned — Daphne looked straight into its face and saw that its eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the curses; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.

"No!" Riddle roared furiously, and Daphne shouted in triumph.

Ginny was darting in and out of the pillars in front of the basilisk, a tiny little fly in the face of the monster. As Daphne pulled her own dagger from her leg, she saw Ginny was making runs towards the basilisk, slashing at it wildly with the dagger before sprinting backwards again. Daphne marvelled at the bravery of the first year, baiting the biggest monster they had ever seen. The basilisk was confused by the different scents, and swinging its head wildly, unsure of where its prey was.

"Hermione, try and get a spell through the eyes," Daphne screamed. "Ginny, keep cutting! Make it lose some blood, slow it down!"

Daphne ran in to join the fray, slashing at the great hide with her dagger. The basilisk hissed furiously at the pain, but it was clear they weren't slowing it down at all, except to irritate it. Riddle was laughing again, and goading the basilisk on. Daphne panted furiously, sweat dripping down her face as she prepared for another run. Then suddenly, she heard a scream.

Hermione had tripped somehow, and fallen backwards beneath the feet of Salazar Slytherin. Even as Daphne watched, Hermione's wand clattered out of her hand and across the floor, leaving her unarmed. The basilisk heard the noise, and whipped its head towards Hermione.

"Hermione!" Ginny screamed, trying to distract the basilisk, but her efforts were in vain.

As the basilisk advanced, Hermione scrabbled desperately on the floor for her wand, but instead, her hand grasped the little black diary where it had been left lying on the floor. Daphne watched in disbelief as Hermione didn't even look at what was in her hand, but took hold of the first object she reached, and hurled the book straight towards the basilisk.

" _NO!_ " Riddle roared, a long drawn out scream that seemed to last forever.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The book arced gently through the air, pages flapping wildly - the basilisk was lunging towards Hermione - the book was spinning...straight into the open mouth of the basilisk. The enormous snake choked as the book entered its mouth, and bit down hard with its fangs, snapping wildly at the book. Several fangs pierced the diary, and then something extraordinary happened.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over the fangs of the basilisk and onto the ground, splashing over Hermione, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then —

He had gone.

The basilisk froze where it was, and Hermione stared up at it, shaking with fear. For a long moment, none of them moved. Daphne felt as though she was frozen in place, waiting for something to happen. The basilisk stayed where it was, swaying slightly above Hermione. It shook its head, and let out a high pitched hissing noise of pain.

" _Cyrene?"_

The basilisk turned its enormous head sharply, and Daphne followed. Sanna was slithering across the stone floor, from wherever she had been during the action, her little beady eyes fixed on the basilisk.

" _Cyrene, ghost-boy is gone. You are free."_

 _"Free?"_

Daphne fell back in awe at the deep, distinctly male hiss. The voice of the basilisk sounded as old as Hogwarts itself, and as rusty as though it hadn't been used since the day Salazar Slytherin had placed it in the Chamber.

" _You can speak,"_ Daphne said wonderingly, staring at the huge beast. She jumped, as the head swung around to face her again, punctured eyes staring blankly at nothing.

" _You are human,"_ the basilisk observed slowly. It seemed confused. " _But you too, speak."_

 _"I'm a strange human,"_ Daphne told the basilisk wryly. She felt like she was in a dream, conversing with a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk gave a short, rough laugh, and the floor shook.

" _Why did you ruin my eyes, human?_ " The basilisk asked pensively. It shook its head again, and seemed unhappy.

 _"To stop you killing us,"_ Daphne said carefully.

" _Oh."_

"Daphne's what's going on?" Hermione spoke up, her voice shaking. Her eyes were still fixed on the basilisk, and she looked terrified.

"I don't know," Daphne admitted. "But I don't think it's going to hurt anyone. Not now Riddle is gone."

"Guys?" Ginny called. Daphne turned to see the little redhead bent over the huddle of black robes against the wall. "Luna's coming around!"

"Oh," Moaning Myrtle said, floating out from behind a pillar. She looked incredibly disappointed. "She's alive then," the ghost said miserably, and without further ado, floated up above their heads straight through the ceiling and disappeared.

"Oh thank Merlin," Daphne said, feeling like her knees were going to give out with relief. She gave Hermione a hand to her feet, and they hurried over to Ginny. Luna had indeed begun to stir. Suddenly she opened her eyes, and saw three faces bent over her. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.

"I'm sorry - oh I'm so sorry - it was me — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and — how did you kill that — that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —"

"It's alright Luna," Hermione said, sliding down the wall next to the little girl, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "It's over now. Riddle's dead."

Suddenly Luna caught sight of the snake, and shrank back. "That's - that's a basilisk!"

"It won't hurt us," Daphne said certainly. "Look, it's not doing anything."

Indeed, the basilisk had dropped its great head to the floor, and seemed to be conversing with Sanna in a series of low hisses. They were too far away for Daphne to hear what they were saying, but the basilisk - _Cyrene,_ Daphne corrected herself - didn't look anything like a threat.

Luna buried her face in her hands, and began sobbing. "I wanted t-to come to Hogwarts for s-so long, and now I'm going to get expelled, and m-mother would have been so ashamed of me."

Daphne stood back awkwardly. She knew she was no good in situations like this. Luckily Hermione and Ginny seemed to have the situation well in hand, and were embracing the little Ravenclaw girl and speaking to her in soft voices.

The entire situation felt like Daphne had been transplanted into a different world, as she looked around the bizarre scene that she was somehow part of. Then suddenly things got even more complicated.

"DAPHNE! GET AWAY FROM THE SNAKE!" a male voice roared.

Daphne looked up to the entrance of the Chamber. Standing between the pillars of stone, looking covered in filth and grime as though they had run the whole way, was Harry, Ron, Stefan and Neville. They were advancing towards the small group with their wands out, horror and fear on their faces.

"The bloody cavalry's finally arrived," Ginny muttered. Then she caught sight of her brother. "Oh Merlin. Someone tell Ron I stayed away from the snake please, or I'll never be allowed to leave the house again."

"It's fine!" Daphne called out, her voice echoing across the Chamber. "It's over! We're all fine!"

\\\/

Harry, Ron, Stefan and Neville looked like they were going to pass out by the time Daphne had explained to them what had happened. She explained how Susan had been petrified, and how Daphne had known something was wrong with Luna, but mistaken her for the culprit, rather than the victim. Then Ginny took over, and explained how Sanna had told them where to go, and how Myrtle had confirmed what they would be facing.

Finally Daphne explained what had happened when they had entered the Chamber. Harry went white when Daphne told him about Tom Riddle and the diary, and gripped her hand very tightly for a moment. Neville looked murderous, but Ron and Stefan looked confused.

"Tom Riddle?" Stefan asked slowly.

"Lord Voldemort," Harry confirmed, looking shaken. "I can't believe you killed him."

"It wasn't him," Daphne frowned. "It was like him...but not. He was about sixteen, and he died when the diary was destroyed."

"Just a memory," Harry breathed, shaking his head.

Eventually, the boys told of how they had returned to the school to find most of the staff missing, a terrifying message on the wall, and a gaping hole in the girls bathroom.

"How did you know where to come?" Daphne asked. They were conversing a little way from Hermione, Ginny and Luna, as the latter was still very distraught.

"Marauder's Map," Harry said. "As soon as we got your message, we kept checking the map. We were almost at Hogwarts when we saw the three of you go into a bathroom and disappear right off the map."

"Nearly gave us a heart attack," Neville agreed. Ron had already left, and was checking Ginny over to make sure she was really unharmed. Ginny caught Daphne's eye and rolled her eyes.

"We thought you were dead," Stefan added softly.

They all fell silent for a moment, taking in the magnitude of what had taken place. Daphne felt strangely euphoric, as though the adrenaline had yet to leave her system.

"So what do we do about the basilisk," Neville asked after a moment, turning to Harry.

"I'll ask Mad-Eye -" Harry began, but Daphne interrupted him.

" _No._ You can't let him be killed! Sanna said that Cyrene didn't want to harm anyone - he was under a curse! He was magically compelled to follow the orders of the Heir of Slytherin."

Too late, Daphne realised she had given herself away, and she went red.

"You can speak Parseltongue," Harry said sharply, staring at her.

"Ah...yes," Daphne admitted sheepishly. Harry stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head.

"Another time," he muttered. "Another time. Right now, we need to work out what to do with this bloody enormous snake."

"Can't you shrink it or something?" Ginny called out.

" _Shrink_ it?"

They all turned to stare at Ginny, who shrugged. "Why not?" She said. "I mean, the only problem now is that it's massive. It's eyes are gone. Make it a bit smaller, and you could keep it as a pet."

"You want to keep the basilisk that has lived in the Chamber of Secrets for millennia, Salazar Slytherin's personal monster... As a _pet?"_ Daphne said incredulously.

"I don't," Ginny said. "But you do. You can speak to it, after all."

Daphne stared at Ginny, feeling struck with a very strong urge to facepalm. Sometimes her little Slytherin protégé came out with things that were almost beyond comprehension. But before she could veto the idea entirely, another voice spoke up. When Luna wasn't distraught, hysterical or under Riddle's spell, she had quite a musical voice.

"It's quite a good idea," the tiny blonde girl said softly, looking at Daphne directly. "The basilisk needs to have a master. And you wouldn't let it hurt anyone."

"You're mad," Daphne said sharply.

"Why not?" Neville said, and Daphne glared at him.

"Harry, surely you think this is crazy," Daphne said, turning to the unofficial leader of the group.

Harry looked as though he was thinking very hard. After a moment, he walked forward towards the still form of the basilisk, lying in front of the statue of Salazar Slytherin. In a voice that was too soft for Daphne to follow, Harry began conversing with the basilisk and Sanna. Daphne sighed, and slid down the wall onto her bottom. She was tired, covered in blood, filth and ink, and all she wanted was a long hot bath, and to pretend this day had never happened.

Daphne caught Stefan's eye and sighed again. The Norwegian boy smiled at her, and shrugged.

Finally, Harry turned back to the group. "Cyrene wants to come with us," Harry said quietly. He looked awed by the conversation with the ancient behemoth, and kept shaking his head as though he had water in his ears

"Can you at least make him about Sanna's size?" Daphne asked piteously, feeling as though she ought to at least get _some_ say in this.

" _Do you mind if I make you smaller, great one?"_ Harry asked Cyrene respectfully. " _So that we may bring you with us hidden, safely."_

 _"I do not care for my size, human body,"_ the great snake said wearily. " _It is very hard to get around. And now I cannot see, I am helpless. Do what you will with me."_

 _"Very well,"_ Harry said softly. It was clear the basilisk was making a huge impression on him.

Harry stood in front of the basilisk, and raised his wand. Daphne noticed it was the more unconventional wand from Uganda that he was using, and realised it seemed to give him more power. She wasn't even sure it was _possible_ to shrink a basilisk of this size.

" _Are you ready, mighty one?"_ Harry asked Cyrene.

 _"Get on with it, little human."_

Harry nodded, and then screwed up his face in concentration. The whole group stared in awe as a blast of power from Harry shot straight towards the basilisk, and spread along the scaly body until the whole snake was encompassed in a glowing blue light. Cyrene's body rose higher and higher until he towered above them, writhing and twisting until -

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light, and Daphne felt her eyes screw themselves shut. She blinked cautiously, waiting for the spots in front of her vision to disappear. The large shape of the basilisk had disappeared.

"What happened?" Ron said, rubbing his eyes and looking around the Chamber.

"He's there," Harry pointed. Daphne looked.

Sanna was curled up on the floor beneath the enormous stone feet of Salazar Slytherin. And next to her, almost exactly the same size, was a little snake. The basilisk was still the same vivid, poisonous green, but it had shrunk to the size that it could be picked up easily. Daphne stared, hardly able to believe Harry had managed it.

"You did it," Daphne said, awed.

Harry looked bashful. "I wasn't sure I could," he admitted. Then he addressed the snake.

" _Are you alright?"_

 _"This is...odd,"_ Cyrene said, his voice slightly higher pitched than it had been before his transformation.

"It's so weird when you do that," Ron muttered.

Daphne walked over to where the basilisk lay, and knelt down beside him. " _Are you going to come with me then?"_ Daphne asked, feeling oddly protective.

The snake turned his head blindly towards the voice. " _I suppose I am,"_ Cyrene said wearily. " _I suppose I am. "_

\\\/

The question of how they planned to get back up the pipe was solved when the four boys produced shrunken brooms from their pockets. They split up, and rode double through the Chamber, and towards the exit. As Daphne wound her fingers into the back of Neville's robes as they travelled up the pipe, she marvelled at what had occurred. It might have even been a dream, if it hadn't been for the little snake in her pocket.

When they reached the bathroom, there was no sign of Moaning Myrtle. They all dismounted, some more shakily than others. Luna in particular was still very pale.

"I suppose we should go and explain ourselves," Harry frowned. "When I got your message, I contacted Kingsley and Mad-Eye. They might be here by now."

"Do we have to," Ginny grimaced, leading the way out of the grimy bathroom and into the corridor. "Can't we lie? Just a little? My parents will _kill_ me."

"Not if I do first," Ron threatened, shutting the door firmly behind them.

"Ginny was amazing down there," Daphne said, shaking her head admiringly. "Wasn't she Hermione?"

"Very brave," Hermione nodded.

"I think you were all incredibly brave," Stefan interrupted shyly. He reddened, as the three girls looked at him. "You faced down Lord Voldemort, and the biggest basilisk anyone has seen in living memory, all to save someone's life."

As they made their way slowly towards the headmaster's office, Hermione and Neville each had an arm around Luna. The little Ravenclaw still wasn't speaking, but Daphne was sure she would come around soon, given enough time. And after everything they had been through, she was alive at least.

Daphne had never considered herself particularly brave. She had been placed in Slytherin because she preferred to sit back on the sidelines and manipulate things from there - it was how she had been raised. But down in the Chamber, Daphne felt she had seen a whole new side to herself. A side that was willing to risk her own life for someone else. It was uncharacteristic of her, and Daphne wasn't sure where her newfound moral courage had come from. But as she slipped her hand in her pocket, and rubbed her fingers over the smooth scales of the hidden basilisk, she knew it was something she wanted more of.

\\\/

 **So basically I wanted to turn things upside down. Before I started this fic, I knew I wanted to have Ginny fighting the basilisk, rather than being taken by it. And then it sort of evolved into an all-girl fighting team. Indulging my feminist tendencies, I'm afraid.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	34. Chapter 34

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

 **\\\/**

The whole group trooped towards Professor Dumbledore's office silently. Harry glanced at the girls, and shook his head disbelievingly again. Never would he have imagined Daphne, Ginny and Hermione doing what they had done.

They reached the office door, and looked at each other. Then Hermione knocked, and the door swung open.

For a moment there was silence as the eight of them crowded into the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Ginny and Hermione's case) blood. There was a choking noise. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest.

Harry looked sideways and found himself face-to-face with a most eccentric-looking wizard. Slightly cross-eyed, with shoulder length white hair the texture of candyfloss, he wore a cap whose tassel dangled in front of his nose and stained purple robes. Harry knew immediately who he had to be looking at. Luna's father looked ghastly, a century old, his lips drawn back into a dreadful leer.

"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" he cried in a high pitched, querulous voice, looking first at Hermione, then at Ron, and finally at Luna, upon which his mouth fell open in a perfect comical O.

"Luna," the man gasped, clutching at his chest. "Oh! Luna!"

Luna freed herself from Hermione's arms and flung herself on her father. Luna's father held his daughter as though he would never let her go, tears trickling down his face. Then he looked up at the group, his eyes settling on Harry. "You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.

"Not me," Harry shook his head, feeling oddly pleased. "Them." He nodded at Daphne, Ginny and Hermione.

"Miss Greengrass," Professor McGonagall said faintly.

Daphne grimaced. Harry thought she didn't look entirely pleased to have the spotlight thrust upon her. Looking around the room, she caught Harry's eye. He nodded at her imperceptibly. _Tell them,_ he thought - _just not too much._

Daphne looked at Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, who were waiting patiently. Then she started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of  
an hour she spoke into the rapt silence: She told them about the dark aura she had sensed around Luna, how she had realised she was wrong when Luna was taken; how the strange actions of Harry's snake had led them to the bathroom, (here, she managed to avoid revealing she was a parselmouth,) and how they had managed to open the entrance.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted Daphne as she paused, "so you found out where the entrance was — breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how on earth did you all get out of there alive? And I don't remember Potter, Weasley, Skorik or Longbottom even being in the school at this point."

So Daphne, her voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them how Ginny and Hermione had protected Luna. Then she fixed Professor Dumbledore with a hard stare

"And that's when Tom Riddle appeared," Daphne said. Her gaze was ice cold, and it was clear she expected Professor Dumbledore to understand exactly what she was saying. Professor McGonagall gasped again, and sat down very suddenly.

"Tom _Riddle_ ," she said weakly. "Impossible."

"I'm afraid it's not impossible, my dear Professor," Dumbledore said gently, keeping his eyes on Daphne. "Perhaps, Miss Greengrass, you could continue with your tale?"

So Daphne told them about the diary, and about Riddle summoning the basilisk. She explained how she and Hermione had used blasting curses on the eyes, and how the ghost of Moaning Myrtle had told them when it was safe to look. Then she explained how Hermione had tripped and lost her wand, and thrown the diary at the basilisk; and how when the diary was no more, Tom Riddle disappeared as if he had never risen.

Then Daphne hesitated.

Picking up on her hesitation, Professor Dumbledore looked at Daphne closely. "And what happened to the basilisk once it's master was dead?"

"It left." Ginny spoke up quickly. Everyone turned to look at the little redhead.

" _Left?_ " Professor McGonagall sounded scandalised.

"Disappeared," Hermione agreed, speaking up. "Went back where it came from."

"It was gone when we arrived," Harry said firmly.

Daphne was very quiet, but there was a tinge of pink to her cheeks and she was avoiding everyone's eyes. Harry thought he saw her hand twitch reflexively towards her pocket.

"Well that is that," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "On the matter of the basilisk, at least. Perhaps we will have to conduct a thorough search once the students are out of the castle. But it will not do any harm without a master."

"But what about my Luna!" Mr Lovegood said, clutching his daughter to him tightly. Luna was standing with her head against his shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks.

"Luna has been through a terrible ordeal," Professor Dumbledore said, giving Luna a gentle look. "She is blameless in this incident. But I am interested to know how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant her, when my sources currently tell me he is hiding in the forests of Albania."

"It was the diary," Luna said softly, lifting her head. Her eyes were red. "I didn't know. I found it in my pocket when I got on the train, I thought - I th-thought it was a leaving present from d-dad."

"The diary was sentient?" Dumbledore asked.

"It wrote back," Luna whispered. "Tom listened. Tom liked to hear me talk about cr-creatures."

"Luna!" Mr Lovegood said, sounding distressed. "Why didn't you tell me? You should have been immediately suspicious when the diary expressed an interest! You know how unusual it is for _anything_ to have the open mind necessary for our work."

"I know," Luna sniffed tearfully. "I was just so - so l-lonely."

"Miss Lovegood should go to the hospital wing now," Professor Dumbledore said firmly. "Perhaps some friends could go with her?"

"I'll go," Hermione volunteered. Neville and Ginny also quickly agreed. They departed with Luna and her father. Mr Lovegood still looked very shaken, as he closed the door behind them.

"This isn't over, Professor," Harry said to Dumbledore.

"What do you mean Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"The way this situation was handled is unacceptable," Harry clarified. "I and my friends cut our holiday short and returned from Norway because we were so appalled to hear you did nothing when Susan Bones was petrified."

"Well I never!" Professor McGonagall began, but Dumbledore cut her off.

"What makes you think I did nothing Harry?" The old man asked, fixing Harry with his intent gaze.

"Amelia Bones, Susan's _guardian_ wasn't notified. The ministry wasn't contacted." Harry hesitated, looking at Dumbledore for a moment. "I thought we had a deal, Professor. At the end of last year, I thought we made peace. You agreed to let me train, we aired some things that needed to be spoken about, and I thought we'd got off on a better foot this year. But this...I can't condone this kind of inaction."

" _Mister Potter."_

"No no, Minerva, let me speak." Dumbledore's tone was mild, but Harry felt suddenly smaller. "Mr Potter, I have made allowances for you in this school, due to the unique position you occupy. I do not underestimate the burden you are under. But I will _not_ allow a twelve year old boy to tell me how to run my school."

"But -"

"No buts, Mr Potter. I'm afraid I require you to leave now - I have a great deal of paperwork to cover."

Harry looked at the headmaster sharply. The portraits on the wall were muttering to themselves, and Professor McGonagall was glaring at him. Abruptly, Harry turned on his heel and left. Daphne, Ron and Stefan followed behind.

\\\/

"It's fine," Daphne said, later that evening. They had congregated in the Slytherin common room to discuss the events of the day. Daphne yawned, stretching out her arm and admiring the effect of the basilisk wrapped around her wrist. Cyrene hissed contentedly.

"We'll just get them like we did last time," Ginny nodded. She was sitting in front of the flickering fire, leaning against Hermione's legs. "We'll send a message to the Prophet."

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione beat him to it. "We've already started the article," she said fussily, arranging some papers on her lap. "We have a first hand account from Luna, a quote from Susan, and we're going to get one from Amelia Bones about how nobody contacted her."

Neville burst out laughing, and Stefan gave quiet snort. Harry looked at the three girls, and shut his mouth. After a moment, he found his voice. "You've come a long way," he said. "Fighting basilisk's... Arranging press scandals... all on your own..."

"You've created a monster," Ron yawned, unwrapping a chocolate frog. The three girls looked rather pleased with themselves.

\\\/

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Your account of the events yesterday are most unsettling. That three of your female friends took on Tom Riddle and a basilisk single-handedly is ridiculous, and an unacceptable state of affairs. However, their bravery cannot be overstated. You have chosen your friends well, and I feel confident that those three young women would stand beside you in any battle._

 _I would have suggested writing to the Daily Prophet and exposing the actions of the staff, to ensure something like this never happens again. However from your words I can see those same three girls seem to have the situation well under control. Do at least_ check _the article before it is sent._

 _I am glad you enjoyed your holiday in Norway. The revelation that your friend Stefan is the son of the Norwegian Minister was an enormous surprise. The secret appears to be very, very closely guarded - all our records on the Norwegian Minister Alec Skorik identify him as a married man with no children. The token you were given is also a remarkable coup for our side, and is more significant than you realise - the concept of being able to ask for 'any help' is literal. You have the full force of the Norwegian Wizarding military at your back. Alastor was so proud when I informed him, that he wanted to send you a bottle of firewhiskey. I only just managed to head him off._

 _I hope you are in good enough health to attend the Winter Gala this evening. I believe the Greengrass family will be in attendance. We have secured tickets, and you may bring a friend. I would suggest Skorik - he has done you many favours this holiday, and it would do no harm to repay him. Send your answer by return of post._

 _Your loving father,_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 _\\\/_

 _HORROR AT HOGWARTS_

 _Coming hot on the heels of September's 'quidditch incident,' Wizarding Britain was rocked today by news of the latest scandal at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rumours that a monster was loose in the castle were previously dismissed as childish fantasy - but today, the Prophet brings you the terrifying news that this is no prank._

 _On the night of Halloween, Hogwarts students were shocked when a threatening message appeared on the wall declaring:_ The Chamber of Secrets has been opened - Enemies of the Heir beware! _For readers unfamiliar with Hogwarts lore, there is a legend that Salazar Slytherin created a hidden Chamber in Hogwarts School before his departure, and left a monster within. The incident was dismissed as a thoughtless prank, until a student was found petrified on Christmas day._

 _"I was petrified by the monster," said Susan Bones, Hogwarts second year student, and niece to Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "I don't know what happened, but I was woke up in the hospital wing a few days later. I'm lucky to be alive."_

 _When pressed for a comment, Madam Amelia Bones had this to say to our correspondent:_

 _"I was naturally very distressed to hear that my niece had been injured in an attack, although relieved to hear she made a full recovery. But what really appalled me was that I was not even contacted about the matter. When I questioned Headmaster Dumbledore on the issue, he explained to me that Susan's state was not considered life threatening or serious, and therefore did not require contacting her guardian."_

 _Parents across Britain will be horrified to hear that their children could have been lying in a stone cold petrified state, and themselves none the wiser. But what made the story finally break? A first year student was taken by the monster itself, into the fabled Chamber of Secrets. Luna Lovegood, daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood, Editor of_ The Quibbler, _was snatched by the creature itself, (reported to be a basilisk.)_

 _"I don't remember anything," Miss Lovegood said this morning. "Except waking up to find the basilisk gone, and my friends had saved me."_

 _Reader you did not misread the statement. Miss Lovegood was not saved by aurors, nor by staff at Hogwarts. Instead, three female students in the first and second year ventured down into the fabled Chamber alone, fought the basilisk, and rescued Miss Lovegood. The three students were uninjured in the rescue mission, but declared that the basilisk disappeared after the destruction of a small diary, which had been cursed to open the Chamber._

 _What kind of reward is going to be issued to the three girls who took on Salazar Slytherin's monster is yet to be announced. But one thing is for sure - the Ministry is certain to launch a full enquiry into exactly now things are conducted at Hogwarts._

 _\\\/_

"Hey Daphne?"

"Yes Potter?"

"Nice article."

"Thanks."

"I liked the line about wondering what kind of reward will be issued."

"Just a friendly hint. A medal might be nice."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

"Are you going to the Gala tonight?"

"Of course. Are you?"

"Yes. Just got the letter from Kingsley."

"Who are you taking?"

"Stefan."

"As a date?"

" _What?_ No. As a friend."

"Oh, alright. I suppose I'll see you both there."

"I suppose you will."

\\\/

 _Crouch Manor, 31st December_

Harry was familiar with the manor houses belonging to the rich and famous of Wizarding society, and was surprised to see Crouch Manor looked so Spartan. It was a cold grey building, with high arched windows and a circular drive in front. Someone had decorated the railings along the front steps with live fairies, in order to make it look more twinkly and inviting. Harry wasn't sure they had succeeded.

Harry and Stefan made their way over from the apparation point, flanked by Mad-Eye and Kingsley. The snow crunched beneath their shoes loudly, and they shivered in the icy wind. At the top of the steps, Mad-Eye leaned forward and knocked heavily, three times on the double oak door.

" _Welcome masters, welcome to the Winter Gala!_ "

The door was opened by a tiny elf, whose legs were so short it had to stretch very high just to reach the door handle. The house-elf was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had long, batlike ears, enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato. Its voice was higher even than Marley's was; a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf - that this one might just be female.

"Good evening," Kingsley said, his voice sounding even deeper when compared to the elf's squeak.

"May I see you wands please?" The house-elf asked politely, extending a hand. "For identification purposes."

The four handed over their wands, looking very uncomfortable. The elf disappeared around the door with them for a moment, and then returned. The wands were handed back to their correct owners, and Harry slipped his back into it's holster with a feeling of relief. No wizard liked to be parted from his wand.

"Many apologise for the inconvenience masters," the elf said, bowing deeply. "Security is tight tonight. Coats can be hung in the anteroom to the left. Then please follow the hallway to the very end, and go through the double doors."

Harry and the other three stepped into the hallway, just as another group arrived behind them. Harry didn't recognise the heavily bearded wizard, or the beautiful woman accompanying him - but he was glad to see from their outfits that they had dressed appropriately for the evening.

"Don't get carried away," Mad-Eye grunted, as they hung up their cloaks. "Keep on your guard. There's a lot of dangerous people here tonight."

"I know," Harry sighed. Stefan didn't say anything, but nodded quietly. Kingsley chuckled, and shook his head.

Finally, they were ready. Harry took a deep breath as they walked towards the double doors. It was time for the fun to begin.

Cameras began flashing as the four entered the room. They made quite a sight, with Harry and Stefan in similar, complementary navy blue dress robes, and Mad-Eye in elegant black. Kingsley looked both handsome and intimidating in his deep purple traditional African garments.

Harry blinked at the spots that appeared in front of his eyes. A few photographers were always allowed at these events, to make sure the rest of Wizarding Britain knew exactly what they were missing out on.

Harry looked around, taking in the enormous ballroom. It resembled the inside of a huge white silk marquee. The walls had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the white silky ceiling. There were about a hundred small, lantern-lit tables, each seating about a dozen people.

About half of the guests seemed to be seated; the other half were still milling around the room in small groups. The women wore such an array of bright colours that it was like looking at a flock of butterflies when they gathered together.

"Shacklebolt! Moody!" They turned to see the Minister of Magic himself striding towards them.

Harry had watched Minister Crouch for many years as Head of Department of International Cooperation, but had never met him personally. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp set of black dress robes. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished.

"My apologies about the photographers," Crouch said stiffly. "They do _insist_ upon coming to these events."

"Not to worry Minister," Mad-Eye growled. "We're used to it."

"I'm pleased you could make it," Crouch said curtly. "And you have brought... I see. Harry Potter."

"Yes we did," Kingsley said, cutting in smoothly. "And he is accompanied by his Hogwarts companion, Stefan Skorik."

"Lovely," Crouch said, not even glancing at Stefan. "Your seats are over towards the far wall. I think we'll be starting soon."

Taking the hint, the group moved towards the tables Crouch had indicated. Stefan seemed to be trying very hard to hold in his mirth, and Harry looked at him curiously.

"Sorry," Stefan murmured, choking back another laugh that threatened to break free. "I just imagined what his face would have looked like if he had known who my father was."

"And he ignored you," Harry grinned broadly, the joke not lost on him.

They quickly identified their seats, and sat down. There were another two empty seats at their table, without name placards. People were beginning to disperse at last, and head towards the tables. Harry spotted Daphne across the floor with her family, but she didn't notice Harry or Stefan. He thought he saw Amos Diggory and his son Cedric too, but couldn't be sure through the crowd.

The guest list was essentially a who's who of Wizarding Britain, and Harry was uncomfortable at the number of suspected death eaters he was spotting among the crowd. He whispered some of his concerns to Mad-Eye.

"Did you see -"

"-Yaxley? Yes. Don't worry, he's only here to play nicely with the Minister's fancy new friends."

Harry eyed the tall man. He had hard, blunt features and an unpleasant smile. Harry shook off his forebodings and glanced at his plate.

"Well well, Harry Potter."

Harry looked up. The seats opposite them had finally been filled - and by someone he knew.

"Hi Theodore," Harry said casually. "And Mr Nott."

"Please, call me Edmund."

Theodore's father was taller than his son, but they bore the same stringy appearance. Edmund Nott was pale, and looked unhealthy, with pocked skin and bags under his eyes. He was also clearly much, much older than most parents of students in Harry's year.

"Evening Edmund," Kingsley said cordially, nodding at the pair. "Nice night?"

"Interesting location," Nott said slowly, glancing around the hall. "One shouldn't say it, but I do prefer Malfoy Manor."

Before he could speak further, there was a tinkling of someone tapping their spoon on their glass, and the hall looked expectantly in the direction of the noise. Minister Crouch had risen to his feet, and seemed to be preparing to make a speech.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Crouch began, glancing around the hall. "Thank you for joining me this evening. We are very pleased to welcome you to the first Winter Gala to be held at Crouch manor."

Crouch had a dry speaking voice, and Harry felt himself tuning out after a few moments. He and Stefan began amusing themselves by poking their tongues out at one another without being caught by Kingsley or Mad-Eye, but stopped abruptly when Nott looked at Harry sharply. Theodore was staring at Crouch intently, but the glassy look in his eyes said he was doing this more to live up to his father's role as Senior Undersecretary, rather than any real interest.

"And therefore, it is my pleasure to announce the start of the Gala," Crouch concluded, after an interminably long three minutes. The crowd applauded politely, and then turned to their plates.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked around - there were no waiters. Crouch, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "roast beef!"And roast beef appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too.

Harry looked at his plate curiously, wondering how the food had appeared. He knew that at Hogwarts it was the house elves, but he hasn't seen any elves except for the one at the front door.

Nott was deep in conversation with Kingsley, who was paying such close attention he seemed to hardly notice what he was eating. Harry noticed Theodore seemed to be trying very hard to pretend he wasn't paying attention, and so quickly listened in.

"- and of course the department for Regulation and Control of Magical Beasts is absolutely raging," Nott was telling Kingsley. "A beast big enough to leave that much blood, and they have no idea what happened to it."

With a jolt, Harry realised they were talking about the basilisk. He wondered what Nott would say if he knew the snake he was looking for was, in fact, in this very room, in Daphne's pocket.

"Did the girl say what happened?" Kingsley asked, straight-faced.

"Nothing we could make sense of," Nott sighed irritably. "Kept going on about some ridiculous made up creatures, and then had the cheek to ask us to send a letter to the Quibbler if we ever caught the beast!"

Harry snorted, and quickly turned it into a cough. Theodore looked at him suspiciously, and Harry quickly engaged Stefan in conversation about their holiday at Skorik castle.

When all the food had been consumed, Crouch stood up and asked the guests to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A piano was levitated into the stage, along with a cello, a violin, a lute, a set of drums and a few guitars.

The band all wore white dress robes, and the crowd applauded politely as they climbed onto the stage and picked up their instruments. They began with a cheerful, Christmassy tune, and Crouch, who looked supremely unenthusiastic, led a witch out onto the dance floor.

"Let's get back before we're trampled," Stefan muttered to Harry, who nodded. They headed for the edge of the room, and stood back and watched. Other couples were joining the dance floor now. Harry spotted Kingsley dancing with a round-faced middle ages witch, and Mad-Eye Moody doing an extremely ungainly two step with Amelia Bones. Harry even caught a glimpse of Augusta Longbottom, waltzing serenely in the arms of an elegant elderly gentleman.

"What are you two doing, skulking out here?" An amused voice asked.

"Daphne!" Stefan said, and Harry turned to see their blonde yearmate smirking at them.

"Hello boys," Daphne said, eying their robes. "I see you co-ordinated."

"You look nice," Harry said honestly. Daphne looked very pretty, in a flowing lavender gown, with lots of silver jewelry.

"Oh this old thing?" Daphne drawled, and then grinned suddenly. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"We're both boys," Harry protested.

"Never mind, I'm here now," Daphne said triumphantly. Then she hooked her arm out, and made another girl appear so fast she might have summoned her with a summoning charm.

"Susan," Harry said, smiling warmly at the round-faced Hufflepuff. "I forgot you would be here tonight."

"Aunty always has an invitation," Susan smiled. She too, looked very pretty in blue, with her hair piled on top of her head. "Did I hear someone mention dancing?"

Any protests fell on deaf ears, as the two girls cajoled the reluctant boys onto the dance floor. It wasn't as bad as it might have been, Harry thought. Growing up with two men, living in a tiny village in Uganda, ballroom dancing had never been on the cards to learn. But Susan was a good dancer, and she soon put him at his ease.

"I'm glad to see you're back," Harry said, as they made their way across the dancefloor.

"I don't remember a thing," Susan said cheerfully. "Just waking up in the hospital wing."

"Probably lucky not to remember," Harry said, privately thinking about the size of the basilisk before it had been shrunk.

"No doubt," Susan agreed, neatly side-stepping Blaise Zabini, who was dancing with a pretty dark-skinned girl in a long silver dress.

When the song changed, Harry bowed out of the next dance. Susan didn't seem to take offence, and she found another partner quickly. Harry made his way back to their table, where he could see Mad-Eye sitting, drinking from his hip flask with his magical eye scanning the dance floor.

"Not dancing?" Harry asked, slipping into the chair beside him and picking up his drink.

"Not if I can help it," Mad-Eye growled, and Harry grinned.

"Not my scene either," he admitted, stretchibg out his legs. Suddenly a shadow fell over Harry, and he looked up, surprised to see Minister Crouch standing over him.

"Minister!" Harry said, straightening up immediately.

"Potter," Crouch said curtly. "Alastor."

"It's a lovely gala," Harry said, struggling to make small talk. Crouch ignored his poor attempt, and briskly pulled out a chair and sat down.

"I need a word, Potter," Crouch said, glancing around.

"Of course," Harry said, wondering what it was about. He wasn't kept wondering for long.

"The article in the Prophet this morning," Crouch said abruptly. "We're launching a full enquiry. But I wanted a word first."

"I'm not sure how much I can help -" Harry began, but Crouch spoke over him.

"We know you were there, and we know you're friendly with the girls that did it."

"Yes," Harry said warily. "Although I only arrived at the end."

Crouch looked as though he was wrestling with something very unpleasant. Finally he spoke again. "We want to offer the three girls Orders of Merlin Third Class for their actions."

"Wow," Harry said blankly. Then a broad smile spread itself across his face. "That's brilliant!"

"What's the catch Barty?" Mad-Eye growled from across the table.

"We need Potter to corroborate their story when we nominate them for the award," Crouch said stiffly. "The beast has not yet been found. Ministry wizards from the Disposal of Dangerous Magical Creatures Department have been searching since last night. There is a significant amount of blood in the Chamber that does test positive for basilisk, but in order to support the claim for an Order of Merlin, we need a credible source."

"I'm credible am I?" Harry grinned.

"You are influential, as you know full well," Crouch said, giving Harry a speculative look. "I have not forgotten that it was your support that made my own ascent possible."

"You're welcome," Harry said with a grin. "Yes, I'll testify that I was there, they saved Luna. I never saw the basilisk, but I saw the girls right after it was gone - they definitely fought it and won."

"Excellent," Crouch said, scraping back his chair and getting to his feet. "You will be notified in due course the date of the proposal."

"Excellent," Harry mimicked.

Crouch seemed about to leave, when a silence suddenly fell over the hall, and they all turned towards the end of the room. Standing in the open doorway, wearing the most expensive sets of dress robes Harry had ever seen, was the two people Harry had not expected to see here tonight.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Something cold seemed to grip Harry at the sight of them, and he shivered. Although Lucius was across the hall, his eyes seemed to be scanning the hall looking for someone, and Harry was alarmed to see them come to rest on Daphne Greengrass. It gave him a new and terrifying idea about where the diary might have come from. _Who else might have Tom Riddle's old school things lying about?_

"Look Potter," Mad-Eye grunted.

"I know," Harry whispered back. "He's glaring at Daphne."

"No," Mad-Eye growled. "Look at Narcissa. She's not pregnant anymore."

"Huh," Harry said, doing a double take. "So she isn't." Indeed, Narcissa Malfoy looked very beautiful and was wearing a tight-fitting long black dress. There was no hint of a baby bump.

"Wonder what she had," Harry shrugged. "Whatever it is, I bet Draco is hopping mad."

\\\/

 **I'm leaving the Malfoy offspring up for guesses.**

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	35. Chapter 35

**Many people now seem to think a Harry/Daphne pairing is on the way, and have some quite strong opinions about it! The truth is - I don't know. I had initial pairings, but I've abandoned some of them for the sake of the organic growth of the story. When I started writing, I didn't expect Daphne to become such a main character, it just happened, like these things often do. Maybe she'll stick around, maybe she'll go away, maybe she'll go to Uganda and become a lesbian vampire princess. Not sure, will have to see where the story goes. Maybe I'll get bored and turn this story into a threesome between Harry, Professor Flitwick and Hagrid. You never know.**

 **Sorry my updates have been shitty. In the last few weeks I've moved into a caravan with no WiFi in the middle of a forest (I'm seriously not kidding,) started university, started my son at nursery, just spent a week in hospital, and had to deal with a multitude of other fuck ups along the way. Don't think I'm complaining. I'm thriving on the chaos. I love it, love it, love it. But I also find myself stretched for time. Sorry. I'll be here when I can.**

 **Year Two**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

 **\\\/**

After the surprise entrance of the Malfoy family, Harry found himself reluctantly tugged back onto the dancefloor, this time by Daphne Greengrass. Stefan had finally bowed out after several songs with the blonde Slytherin girl, but Daphne didn't even seem out of breath.

"I hate dancing," Harry groused as they spun amongst the other couples.

"So do I," Daphne said, smiling brightly.

"Then why do you look so happy?" Harry asked, trying not to stand on Daphne's feet, and failing miserably.

"Because that's what you do when you're a pureblood girl," Daphne sighed, and rolled her eyes. "I've been coming to these gala's since I was nine."

"Unlucky for you," Harry grinned. "So have you heard the news?"

"About the Malfoy's?" Daphne asked, steering him expertly past Kingsley, who was dancing with Nymphadora Tonks. The pink-haired auror winked at Harry as they twirled past.

"Yeah, does anyone know what the baby is?"

"Babies," Daphne smirked. "There's two of them."

"Twins?" Harry exclaimed a little too loudly, and Daphne stomped on his foot deliberately. "Sorry," he whispered. "Twins? How do you know?"

"Cyrene," Daphne said, her teeth sparkling as she smiled. "He's agreed to keep an ear out for me. So when the Malfoy's arrived, he slipped over to their table and waited underneath for them to start talking. When he heard enough, he came back and reported to me."

Harry was very impressed, but tried not to let it show. "You're using _Salazar Slytherins_ _personal basilisk_ to spy on people?"

"It's nice to have one of my own," Daphne admitted. "Before that, if I wanted to know anything I had to use _your_ snake."

It took Harry a moment to digest what he had heard, and he looked around at the other couple dancing to check nobody was listening in on their conversation. Daphne wore a slight smirk, but beneath that Harry thought she looked a bit sheepish.

"I don't believe it!" Harry hissed. "You used Sanna to _spy_ for you?"

"You weren't utilising a resource," Daphne shrugged. "So I did."

"She's _my_ snake!"

"Sanna would argue that she doesn't belong to anyone," Daphne countered. Then she softened. "Look, sorry. But if it hadn't been for that, we would never have found out where the Chamber of Secrets was."

Harry was annoyed, but recovered quickly. Technically, he supposed, he didn't own Sanna. And it wasn't like Daphne had been using her for anything _too_ bad. "So tell me about the twins,"' he said, changing the subject, but deciding to bring it up with Sanna later. "Boys or girls?"

"One of each," Daphne said slowly, clearly relishing her role. "Cepheus Cygnus Malfoy, and Druella Dorea Malfoy."

"Weird names," Harry muttered. "Wonder what Draco thinks."

"Well he's not here tonight, so perhaps he's babysitting," Daphne said, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

As they danced, Harry considered the implications of the new Malfoy children. A boy meant that Lucius could disown Draco and select a new heir, should his oldest son ever do anything to displease him overtly. Harry thought he understood why Draco had been so reluctant to have siblings. A girl was less important, and no threat - no doubt she would be sent to Hogwarts to find a husband, and be married off into a good pureblood family at the age of seventeen, just like her mother.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversation and dancing, and escaping back to the edge of the room when Harry could. Harry was amused to spot Kingsley dancing with Nymphadora Tonks, the young auror who had assisted them during Sirius's escape. Kingsley was an excellent dancer, but judging by the frequent winces the tall man was barely suppressing, his feet were being trodden on with every other step by the pink-haired auror.

When it was time to leave, Harry nodded at Crouch cordially at the front door, where the Minister of Magic was standing, saying goodbye to his guests.

"Lovely evening Minister," Kingsley said smoothly, nodding at the older man.

"Pretty party," Moody growled, clunking down the steps heavily on his wooden leg.

"So glad you could come," Crouch said, sounding bored. "I'll be in touch Potter."

As they headed to the apparition point, Harry yawned widely. Beside him, Stefan was rubbing his eyes too. "I'm not made for this late night partying business," the Norwegian boy sighed.

"Never mind," Harry said, stepping into the circle and grasping Kingsley's arm firmly. "Home soon."

A _crack_ , a wrenching squeezing sensation, and they were gone.

\\\/

The Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Magical Creatures remained in the castle for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumour when the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone took it as confirmation of the article that had appeared in the Prophet. So many students filed past the bathroom that Flich took out cordons and declared the area out of bounds.

This seemed to frustrate Hermione, who seemed to have taken it upon herself to start visiting Moaning Myrtle. When the new term started, she could often be found in the library, researching ghosts.

"If I owed Myrtle my life, I still wouldn't be visiting," Ron said, pawing through the pile of books Hermione had stacked on the table, one evening in the library.

"Don't be silly Ron, we've got to pay her back for what she did," Hermione said briskly. She had changed since the episode in the Chamber. All three girls had. They wore a confidence and poise that they hadn't possessed before the incident, and the change was especially marked in Hermione.

"I thought you said she only came down to see if Luna was dead," Harry said, looking up from the next desk where he was completing a particularly nasty Potions essay. "Sorry Luna," he added guiltily, glancing sideways at the little blonde.

"Oh it's quite alright," Luna said dreamily, smiling at Harry. "I wouldn't have minded being a ghost. It must be nice to go through walls."

"Er, yeah," Harry said grinning. "But would you really want to be stuck in a bathroom with Myrtle for all eternity?"

"I wouldn't have minded," Luna repeated serenely. "I could spend as much time as I wanted looking for water frangles. Daddy says they especially like hiding in toilets, but it's very hard to reach them when you're solid. "

Ron burst out laughing, and quickly turned it into a cough. Harry chuckled, and even Daphne raised a smile. When the three girls had gone after Luna in the Chamber, Harry suspected that none of them had expected Luna to become a part of their group. But somehow she had seamlessly fitted into them, and seven had become eight.

The first morning back after the holidays, Luna had been escorted into the Great Hall by Madam Pomfrey. Harry and the others had been sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and looked up at the sound of the doors opening. Luna looked pale and weak, and her eyes were frightened as she looked at the crowded Ravenclaw table. Madam Pomfrey left, but still Luna did not move. And then Hermione looked up.

"Oh for heaven's sake," she huffed. "I _told_ Luna we'd sit with her for the first morning back, to make sure nobody said anything about the incident."

"She looks nervous," Neville said sympathetically. But Hermione had already risen to her feet and strode off towards the doorway. Harry couldn't hear what the older girl said to Luna, but it brought a smile to the firsts years lips, and she looked towards the group and nodded. When Hermione and Luna joined them at the table, the other Ravenclaws looked at them curiously, but said nothing.

Harry had been sympathetic to Luna's situation, but expected it to be only a morning. Yet somehow, Luna had slipped into their group without trying. She was odd, and seemed to go off on strange tangents that seemed to drive Hermione mad, but nonetheless the group all seemed to find themselves feeling very protective of their newest member.

"What are Water Frangles?" Ginny asked curiously, slipping into the seat beside Harry. There seemed something off about her, and Harry stared very hard at the redhead for a moment, wondering what it was. Then he realised her eyebrows were bright blue.

"Charms," Ginny said, shooting Ron a dark look as he snorted. "Flitwick wanted to see if we could - well, never mind. What were you saying?"

"Water Frangles are little creatures that live in dirty water," Luna said seriously. "They eat human waste, and purify it to make the water fresh again. Daddy really wants to do an article on them, but it's so hard to reach them..."

Ginny grimaced, and changed the subject swiftly. Harry shook with silent laughter. Luna was a breath of fresh air.

\\\/

A week later found all eight of them by the lake on a rare sunny afternoon in mid February. The weather had been grey and stormy for weeks, but this morning had dawned with clear blue skies, and an orange sunrise over the glassy lake. Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione had met Remus as usual to pick up their morning training by the lake. They were even speaking to the werewolf about the possibility of adding a few more members to their group.

"You do this every morning?" Daphne asked, her pretty face wrinkling at the thought.

"What? You mean you didn't already know? No mysterious spies to tell you my every movement?" Harry teased.

Daphne scowled. "I'll set my basilisk on you," she threatened.

"I like the sound of it," Ginny said, stretching out her legs to capture every last elusive bit of warmth from the sun. "The worst part of being in the Chamber was feeling so _useless_ next to you two. I didn't know any spells at all that could be useful, and I got lucky with the dagger. I barely know how to use it."

Neville spoke up then, talking about the type of training they had done with Remus. Harry lay back in the grass, content to have the other three answer any questions their friends might have. He wondered how they had somehow turned into a preteen fighting force in training, instead of being like any other group of friends. But he already knew the answer. _Voldemort._ While he lived, Harry would never be free. And his friends seemed determined to come along for the ride.

"Harry?" Harry opened his eyes in surprise when his name was called. It was the last person he expected to see standing over him.

"Hi Theodore," Harry said curiously, sitting up. The stringy Slytherin boy hadn't spoken to him since the day of the Winter Gala. Since Daphne's departure from the small group of Slytherins that Harry had found himself dealing with in the first year, the group hadn't approached Harry again. Instead they had hung around in corners, glaring at the group and muttering to themselves darkly.

"Come for a walk?" Theodore asked, looking around warily. The entire group was looking suspiciously at him, and Harry noticed Stefan's hand stray towards his wand. There was something funny about Theodore being there. He seemed almost nervous, and kept glancing back at the castle, as though worried he was being watched.

"Sure," Harry said easily, getting to his feet. Theodore nodded, and turned on his heel, striding away along the lake. Harry nodded at his friends. Stefan's face was dark, and he was eyeing Theodore with deep suspicion.

Harry jogged off, and quickly caught up with Theodore. They walked in silence for a few minutes around the edge of the lake, and then Theodore stopped abruptly, and turned to face Harry.

"Look Potter, I need to tell you something," Theodore said quickly.

Harry held up a hand to forestall him. "One moment."

Harry scanned the grass around them closely. Just when he thought the area was clear, he spotted what he was looking for. A smile broke out on his face. _Gotcha._ Harry pounced suddenly, dropping to the ground and wrapping his hand firmly around the little green snake with the plume on its head. Cyrene had been trying to keep out of sight in the shadow of a willow tree, but Harry's sharp eyes had spotted him.

" _Tell Daphne to mind her own business,"_ Harry said fondly to the little basilisk. Cyrene hissed back at him, and Harry marvelled at how petulant a thousand year old serpent could sound. Cyrene sounded like sulky child being told off, and Harry grinned as he watched the snake slither back into the grass and back towards the group.

"What was _that?"_ Theodore choked, staring at Harry.

"My snake," Harry lied glibly, adjusting his sleeve to make sure his _real_ snake wasn't seen. Sanna was snoozing, wrapped around his wrist.

"It looked like..." Theodore trailed off, his face white.

"Like what?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. Theodore shook his head, apparently unable to speak.

"Nevermind," he muttered eventually.

"So what did you drag me out here for?" Harry asked, trying to get things back on track.

Theodore shifted from one foot to another uncomfortably. "I shouldn't be here," he blurted after a moment. "I shouldn't tell you this."

"Tell me what?" Harry said with interest.

Theodore stared at Harry for a long moment. He seemed to be weighing his options. Harry wondered which one he would eventually decide on.

"It's my father," Theodore said at last. Harry let out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding.

"Go on."

"You know he's Senior Undersecretary to Crouch?"

"Yes."

"Well...there's something funny going on," Theodore said, frowning. "Father does talk to me a lot. Wants me to go into politics when I'm older. And he says he found something in Crouch's house when he was visiting one night."

"Found what?" Harry asked, his mind racing. What secrets could the Minister of Magic be hiding?

"That's just the thing," Theodore said, his frown deepening. "Father won't tell me. But he always tells me things. All I know is that he's happy - happier than I've ever seen him before. He keeps leaving the house at odd hours, and he says this could be our chance. But when I ask what _this_ is, he tells me not to concern myself yet."

Harry felt a chill down his spine. "Yet," he repeated.

"Yeah, I didn't miss that either," Theodore said, glancing back at the castle again.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked after a moment, shifting his weight.

Theodore shrugged. "Because you're the only person who might be able to do something about it that I actually trust."

"You trust me?" Harry asked, a big grin breaking out on his face. Theodore scowled blackly.

"You're better than Dumbledore, Potter. But that's all."

\\\/

Harry wrote home immediately with Theodore's information. Kingsley and Mad-Eye agreed with Harry's concerns, but added that nothing about Crouch could ever be considered dark. _Nobody hates dark wizards more than Crouch, except maybe me,_ Mad-Eye wrote. Harry already knew that, but he couldn't shake a growing feeling of unease.

It didn't help that in the weeks following, Harry was plagued with bad dreams. When he awoke, he could never remember what they had contained. He was just left with a dull, sinking feeling of nausea, and a choking claustrophobia that often took most of the morning to shake off. Harry took to sitting up late at night reading, trying to make himself tired enough to sleep without dreaming. It rarely worked.

As February turned into march, and Spring followed on the heels of Winter, Hogwarts exploded with life and light. The exams were still far off enough that nobody - except perhaps Hermione - was too worried about them, and the weather was turning. The grounds were covered in thick, lush grass dotted with small daisies, and even the forbidden forest seemed to quiver with new life.

Morning training sessions became a pleasure again. As the sun rose the group were found outside with their tutor, drilling all manner of spells and defensive manoeuvres. But Harry was unable to appreciate the beautiful weather. Plagued by the ceaseless nightmares, his performance in lessons and training suffered.

Stephan and Hermione were beside themselves with worry, as Harry gradually grew paler and more listless. The remainder of the group were less open about their feelings, but Harry caught several glances thrown his way by Daphne and Neville, and he knew for a fact that Ginny and Luna had tried to steal some dreamless sleep potion from Madam Pomfrey. Their plot failed when the medicinal potions cupboard raised an alarm that clamped the intruders to the walls like a human magnet, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to arrive and release them.

Ron relayed this story to Harry the next morning during potions, when they were supposed to be brewing swelling solution. He described the whole incident with great mirth. Both first year girls received detentions from the school healer, to be served with Professor Flitwick. Madam Pomfrey appeared to be under the impression that the girls had wanted the potions to set up a prank

"That's the problem with having Fred and George in the family," Ron said ruefully. "Nobody ever gives you the benefit of the doubt."

There was a slight sound from behind them. Quickly both boys learned towards their cauldrons and pretended to be carefully analysing the contents, as Professor Snape swept by. The potions was a sickly green, and frothing violently.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" Ron muttered to Harry, waving his wand hopefully over the contents.

"Stop," Harry hissed as softly as he could, glancing up to see Draco Malfoy smirking at them. "We haven't added the pufferfish eyes yet."

Malfoy waited until Snape had turned back to his desk, before flicking as many of the revolting eyes at them as he could manage. One got caught in Ron's messy hair, and he carefully untangled it with a shudder.

"Thanks," Harry mouthed at Malfoy, dropping them in the potion. Malfoy made a rude hand gesture, and gave them a black look.

"Hasn't cheered up much, has he?" Ron muttered. Indeed, since Christmas Malfoy had been in a long series of dark moods. These ranged from minor funks, where he would shut himself up in the dormitory for hours with his books in a manner eerily reminiscent of Hermione, all the way to furious rages, where he would throw things, attempting to break everything in the common room. Even Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy were keeping a wary distance.

"Ah well, probably worried he's going to be disinherited," Harry said, not bothering to keep his voice down. He quickly quashed a tinge of sympathy.

"Something you would like to share with the class Potter? Weasley?" Professor Snape said icily from the front of the class.

"No sir," the boys chorused. Neville shot them a sympathetic look from across the classroom.

"Good." Professor Snape stood and adjusted his robes, seemingly about to make another round of the room. Then something odd happened. If Harry hadn't been looking in that exact direction at exactly the right moment he would have missed it. It happened so quickly he hardly had time to register, let alone process what happened.

As Professor Snape stood, a spasm of pain suddenly crossed his face, distorting his pale features for a split second. Reflexively, the man made an involuntary movement with his right hand. For a moment he seemed about to clutch his left arm, and then he flexed his white fingers and place his hand back on the desk.

Harry stared. Then he glanced around. Ron was still busy poking their potion hopefully, and clearly hadn't noticed a thing. Harry shrugged to himself, and returned to his potion, picking up the textbook.

 _Step Five: Add the distilled essence of water frangles, then stir in a clockwise direction for thirteen turns._

Harry blinked at the book for a moment, wondering where he had heard that before. Then Luna sprang into his mind. Thinking of his latest friend attempting to steal potions for him made him smile. Harry found the story amusing, but didn't tell Ron how warm it had made him feel inside.

When Harry saw Ginny and Luna later at dinner time, he made sure to smile at them both. Ginny blushed violently, as she was still occasionally liable to do in his presence, and knocked over the salt. Ron sniggered, as Hermione quickly vanished the mess with a sweep of her wand, tutting under her breath. Harry laughed, then flinched suddenly as pain spiked through his forehead. He clapped his hand to his head before he could help it.

"Are you alright?" Stefan asked anxiously.

"Fine," Harry lied, quickly dropping his hand. Seven sets of eyes were on him, their expressions ranging from worry to scepticism.

"Really, I'm fine," Harry said. He glanced up at the staff table, and narrowed his eyes when he saw Professor Dumbledore watching him. The old man was gazing intently in their direction, idly combing his long fingers through his silvery beard. As Harry met his gaze, the headmaster nodded, as though they had passed one another in an empty hallway. Suddenly there was a flurry of motion from one end of the table. Professor Snape had stood up abruptly, and strode to the staff door. It closed with a bang behind the dark man.

Harry frowned. "Curious," he murmured.

"Whats curious?" Neville asked, leaning forward and knocking over the salt cellar that Hermione had just mended. Salt sprayed across the table, breaking the tension, and even Hermione smiled grudgingly.

"Nothing," Harry said, the moment shattered, returning to his food. The other seven settled quickly back into their conversations, but Harry remained silent.

That night Harry sat up late by the fire in the Slytherin common room. Ron left for bed at eleven, but Stefan stayed determinedly, reading doggedly through his yawns. The Norwegian boy was curled in a black leather armchair, wrapped in a pale blue dressing gown. In the firelight he looked very gaunt, and Harry wondered if he was alright. In his own exhaustion Harry had felt his attention to his friends slipping. There had always been a fragility to Stefan, a kind of delicacy that made him so much less robust than Ron or Neville. Harry hoped he was not becoming unwell.

Staring into the flames, Harry let his attention wander from his book. He had a nagging sense that he was missing something. There was a puzzle before him, and he felt that he had all the pieces laid out before him, if only he could _see_ how to put them together in the right order. It was like an itch in his mind.

 _Theodore said his father found something at Crouch Manor. My scar is hurting. Professor Snape seems out of sorts. Draco is angry. Professor Dumbledore is watching like he expects to see something._

Harry couldn't make any sense of the thoughts, and gave up the frustrating game. Stretching his legs out on the narrow sofa he yawned, and laid his book across his lap. He closed his eyes for a moment..they were so heavy...just for a moment..

 _He was looking around a firelit room. The room was dim and shadowy, with drawn curtains, and many portraits on the walls. Then Harry looked again, and received a shock. The room was occupied._

 _There were three men standing before Harry, all wearing long black robes. Two had their backs turned, and one was facing Harry. Harry didn't recognise him. He looked to be in his mid thirties, and was pale. He had a mop of straw coloured hair, and was talking very fast to his companions with a maniacal glint in his eyes. Harry couldn't make out the words, and tried to lean forwards. He discovered that he couldn't move._

 _Glancing around him, Harry realised he was in a high backed armchair upholstered in red velvet. It seemed enormous, as though Harry had become very small. Harry let out a hiss of frustration. Immediately one of the men turned to him, and fell to his knees. Harry jerked with surprise as he recognised the man. It was Edmund Nott, Theodore's father. Harry felt the desire to hurt him rise up his chest like a serpent, and hissed again._

 _"My Lord. Nagini will be ready for milking soon." Nott was speaking quickly, his eyes dropped deferentially to the floor. Harry licked his lips with pleasure._

 _"Good." The voice that issued from Harry was not one he recognised as his own. Nott nodded, and left the room._

 _The third man had not moved. Now Harry looked closer there seemed to be something unnatural about his stance. His head was lolling on his shoulders slightly, and he was barely moving except to breathe. The man with the straw coloured hair kept shooting vicious looks at him._

 _"Now now, you will have your turn Barty," Harry said, with cold amusement. He was pleased with the man with the straw coloured hair._

 _"Master, master I would like very much to begin the process now," the fair man said hopefully, his fingers twitching by his sides._

 _"Not now," Harry commanded. "You will wait until the appropriate measures are in place before you act. I trust you have ensured that the potion is perfect?"_

 _"Not quite at the standard we once had," Nott said grimly, re-entering the room. There was an enormous snake draped across his shoulders, with bright intelligent eyes. Harry felt inordinately pleased at the presence of the snake._

 _"Yes indeed," Harry said to Nott. "But our old potioneer will not go...unpunished."_

 _"Torture and kill them all," the man with straw coloured hair said, his tongue darting out to pick his lips eagerly._

 _Harry made no response, but turned to the snake again. She hissed to him, reporting nothing new, merely familiarising him with her day. It involved rats, and an unfortunate muggles pet cat. Harry let out a high pitched giggle. Both men in the room flinched at the sound. The third made no move to indicate he had heard the noise. Harry shifted irritably. Something was twitching at the edge of his consciousness, like a voice calling from far away._

 _Harry...Harry..._

 _Harry wanted to know the identity of the third man. He found himself suddenly certain that all he had to do was speak and the man would turn around. He found himself infused with the idea that the man would run to the edges of the world under his guidance; throw himself from a cliff; walk into a fireplace and remain there as the flame scorched the flesh from his bones, should Harry will it so._

 _"Turn around," Harry hissed._

 _The voice was getting louder._

 _Harry...HARRY..._

 _With a jerk, Harry felt himself pulled away from the body he was inhabiting, back like he was falling into a black hole. Just before the dimly lit room turned into oblivion, Harry saw the figure of the third man turn obediently. For a split second, Harry caught a glimpse of his face. And he knew exactly who he was looking upon. For who in the entire Wizarding world didn't know the face of the Minister of Magic?_

 _"_ Harry!"

"What? What?"

Harry sat up blinking. His neck was aching, and his scar felt as though it was on fire. He groaned, and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. Then a cool cloth was handed to him, and he gratefully pressed it against the agonising burn on his head. As the pain receded slightly, Harry opened his eyes, and looked into the worried face of Stefan.

"Are you alright?" Stefan asked, handing Harry a quick conjured glass of water.

"Fine," Harry said, sitting up and taking the water gratefully. He was still in the common room, but the fire had burnt down all the way to the embers. He must have been asleep for some time. Already the remnants of the dream were slipping from his mind like water.

"Bad dream?" Stefan asked sympathetically, crouching by Harry and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I nodded off myself there, until you woke me up."

"I think so," Harry frowned. All he remembered was a dark room. He had a vague sense that a snake had been involved, and there had been men too...

"Best get to bed," Stefan said, standing up and offering Harry a hand. Harry took it, and got to his feet. But as he descended the steps to the dormitory the dream echoed in his mind like an eerie portent of things to come. And for the rest of the night Harry found himself chased by visions of snakes devouring men, who devoured one another and then the whole world. He awake again, and lay awake swearing and shaking. Finally, an hour before dawn, he slipped into a peaceful sleep.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	36. Chapter 36

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

 **\\\/**

"You look like shit Harry."

"Blunt as ever Ron," Stefan grinned from his bed. It was dawn, and although the windowless dungeon dormitory gave no hint to the weather outside, the three boys knew that far above them a thin line of red stretched across the horizon as the new day began. They were expected for training in fifteen minutes. It was the first session Remus had agreed to include the others in.

"Piss off," Draco Malfoy hissed, burying his head under the covers. "You don't have to do this every thrice-cursed morning and wake us all up."

"Stefan hasn't before today," Ron pointed out reasonably.

"You're usually bad enough on your own Weasley."

Malfoy pulled his pillow over his head and yanked his curtains tightly around the bed. Ron and Stefan exchanged grins as they dressed quickly. The deafening snores of Crabbe and Goyle echoed around the dormitory regardless, and that was enough to wake the dead.

Harry felt as though he was underwater. His head was swimming with weeks of missed sleep, and felt as though it was filled with sand. To top of all off, his scar was aching and throbbing. Even the noises of Ron and Stefan getting ready made him wince.

"I don't think I can do it today," Harry said hoarsely, sitting up. Stefan and Ron glanced at each other.

"It's my first day," Stefan said coaxingly. "You can't miss my first session."

"I don't want to miss it. I just..."

"Come in Harry," Ron said seriously. "If it's this bad you need to go to the hospital wing."

The threat of the hospital wing was enough. Harry felt as though his head was going to burst, but somehow managed to get out of bed and dress himself. Somehow he made it all the way down to the training session.

By the time the sun had risen over the lake, casting a pale gold glow across the grounds and making the dew on the grass sparkle, there were eight students lined up in front of Remus, shivering slightly in the damp air.

"Good morning," Remus greeted the new recruits. As usual he looked wide awake, and was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Morning," a few people mumbled back. It was an unlikely turn out. Ginny was yawning widely and rubbing her eyes, while Luna looked as though she might have wandered in by accident, and was staring out across the lake. Daphne looked exactly like she usually did, and was wearing her usual tight robes. Harry wondered how she was intending to train in them.

Remus smiled at the group in a friendly way. "So we have some new members today. This makes it slightly more difficult because you are going to be on a different level to your friends who have already been training since September, but not insurmountable. "

"Are we all going to work together?" Daphne asked, shifting slightly. Harry thought she looked out of her comfort zone.

"Yes and no," Remus said. "The next couple of weeks will be a crash course while we get you up to speed on the main points we have already covered, and do some intensive physical work. It won't be easy, but by the summer term I hope to have you all on the same wavelength."

The new recruits nodded, with varying expressions. Daphne still looked slightly uncomfortable, while Ginny was practically vibrating with excitement. Harry saw Ron and Neville grinning at each other with anticipation. None of the new members had been briefed on what the session contained, and they were about to get a shock.

Remus led them all down to the lake. "Time for our warm up," he said brightly.

Immediately Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione stripped down to their underwear, and stood shivering by the edge. Goosebumps sprang up over Harry's skin, and the cold cleared his head slightly. He glanced back over his shoulder to see what the others were doing and burst out laughing.

Daphne, Ginny and Stefan were all staring at the other four with an expression of mute horror on their faces. Daphne began shaking her head immediately.

"No way. No way. I signed up for defense training, not swimming naked in the lake."

"We all do it," Hermione said coaxingly. "It really warms you up for the session."

Over the months of swimming in the lake they had all grown accustomed to the cold, and to the partial nudity. Remus was not a hard taskmaster, but he had driven the point home that they were there to train, not lark about. Although in any other situation Harry, Ron and Neville might have been acutely aware of Hermione's presence, during the course of the session she was one of them - a trainee.

"It's not that bad," Neville agreed.

Stefan was the first to capitulate. He undressed calmly, and lined up beside the first four. "Not as cold as Norway," he shrugged, although goosebumps were appearing all over his skin. Harry frowned at the scars all over Stefan's body. Although he had seen them before they still bothered him. Hermione averted her eyes, a slight hint of pink appearing on her cheeks. Remus seemed more interested in watching the situation play out by itself than getting involved.

"No," Daphne repeated. Ginny was looking wary too.

Luna, who had been regarding the group with only mild interest, glanced out over the lake, and then casually shrugged her robes off as though she was alone. She was stark naked beneath.

"Gah!"

Immediately Harry, Ron, Stefan, Neville and Remus buried their heads in their hands. Remus turned away from Luna immediately, his eyes shut tight. His face was bright red.

"I'm going to get sacked," Remus groaned. "Erm, Luna?"

"Yes Professor Lupin?" Harry heard Luna say serenely. He kept his head buried in his hands, not daring to look. He felt sure his face looked like a tomato.

"Maybe you should sit the swimming out today. Er, until you can get a costume."

"But I like swimming," Luna said, sounding very disappointed.

"And you can...erm...swim. Just maybe...perhaps you should..er...wear something."

"But then the water doesn't circulate properly," Luna protested mildly. "It's very important for the whole body to be purified."

"Forget sacked," Remus mumbled. "I'm going to get arrested."

Fortunately Hermione took matters into her own hands, cleverly duplicating her swimwear and giving Luna a set. With the problem solved, the boys and their tutor felt safe to uncover their eyes. Remus was still very pink, and didn't look at Luna at all, thanking the air above her head.

In the commotion, Ginny shrugged, and stripped, joining the others along the edge of the bank. Finally only Daphne was left. For a long moment, the blonde girl stared at her seven friends, standing by the edge of the lake shivering. Her expression was indecipherable, but Harry thought she looked more uncomfortable than he had ever seen her, and for a long moment he thought she was going to walk away.

"Come on Daphne," Harry surprised himself by saying.

"Yes, you can do it," Neville agreed. The others quickly joined in with their own entreaties and reassurances. As Daphne still looked uncertain, Harry realised she was genuinely upset.

"Are you alright?" Stefan asked suddenly, his expression searching. Daphne glared at Stefan.

"I'm fine," she said roughly, and nodded as though she had come to a decision. Slowly, and with great precision, she unlaced her tight bodice. Then she loosened the cords, pulled off her robes and dropped them on the ground beside her. She stood defiantly in front of them in lacy underwear, as though daring them to comment.

Harry felt the fog in his head clear once and for all as he stared in shock. Daphne's whole body was covered in vicious, deliberate marks. Her torso and chest were crisscrossed with a spaghetti junction of scars, each one a distinct and brutal imprint on her skin. White, purple, crimson. The welts continued down her upper arms and over her thighs. Impossible to count them, impossible to calculate the misery that had gone into those marks.

For a long moment Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't even register that he was looking at Daphne's unclothed body and he doubted any of the boys beside him did either. They all stood for a moment in appalled silence. Then Harry flushed, mortified he had been staring. But more than mortified; he was angry.

"What happened?" Harry asked in a low, cold voice.

Daphne made no move to cover herself, or to put her robes back on. Her arms hung stiffly by her sides, but her fingers twitched reflexively. "My father happened," Daphne said evenly, after a moment.

"I thought so."

They all turned to stare at Stefan. The Norwegian boy was looking directly at Daphne, his eyes flashing with anger. "I knew it. At the Christmas ball I saw you. It was a clever glamour you were wearing, but when you moved it shimmered slightly."

Harry felt his heart sinking. He himself had noticed no such thing.

"Shall we swim?" Daphne asked, her face like stone as she looked past them all.

"Don't pretend," Stefan said in a low voice, looking intently at Daphne. He gestured to his own scarred body. "Look at me. I know. You can't fake it here."

"You don't need to fake it," Hermione said softly. "We'll help you."

"You're never going back there," Harry said. In his head he was fantasising about finding Mr Greengrass and tearing him limb from limb with his bare hands, then feeding the remnants to Norbert. From the looks on his friends faces, they were imagining a similar situation.

"How long?" Stefan asked quietly.

Daphne looked at him for a moment, and seemed to be considering whether or not to answer. Finally she raised her chin slightly. "Since I was six."

Harry closed his eyes in horror.

"I don't want to talk about it," Daphne said calmly. Too calmly. When Remus opened his mouth to say something, she held up a hand to stop him.

"I don't want to talk, I don't want help, I don't want you to tell anyone. If I suspect you're going to inform someone, I will find you when you are sleeping and obliviate you. All I want is to learn how to fight properly. That's what I'm here for, and if I have to strip in order to learn how to kill, then I will do it. Now can we please get started?"

"Daphne," Remus said weakly. "This is a safeguarding issue. This is a matter of you being a child in my care, and you needing help."

Daphne's eyes flashed. "I haven't been a child for a very long time, _Remus_."

"I am obliged to report this, your father needs to be held accountable for his actions."

"He will," Daphne said softly, venom dripping from her words. "Oh he will. But not by you. This is a matter between my family and I, and I do not required your interference. Now can we please get on with things?"

When Remus opened his mouth to speak again it was Stefan who cut him off.

"You need to listen to Daphne," Stefan insisted suddenly. Remus looked at him with surprise.

"It's her choice. You would be disrespecting her by not adhering to her wishes. Think about it. Talk about it another time. But perhaps for the moment we should get on with training?"

Harry saw Daphne looking at Stefan with relief, and nudged Ron and Neville. When they looked up, he gestured at the water. The boys immediately understood his meaning, and all three of them turned to the lake as one and jumped in. The icy water closed over Harry's head for a moment, and he fought the urge to shout as he surfaced, gasping. Luna and Ginny followed, jumping in holding hands.

Stefan extended a hand towards Daphne. She looked uncertain, and in an instant Harry understood everything. Daphne had long been an enigma to him. Her icy exterior and haughty ways could easily be passed off as a pureblooded upbringing, but it never quite rang true. Finally, Harry knew that all her pride, her coolness, her slyness was nothing more than a mask behind which to hide her scars.

Daphne took Stefan's hand, and they turned to the water. They ran forward together, their clasped hands linking their scarred arms together. Harry and the others, and even Remus cheered as the scarred pair hurled themselves into the lake, and the water rose up to meet them.

When the two heads, one blonde and one dark, popped out of the water like corks, Daphne was laughing and crying at the same time. Her pale face was streaked with water and tears, but somehow she looked more beautifully alive than Harry had ever seen before.

\\\/

"Letter for you Potter."

"Mmm?" Harry lifted his head from the breakfast table where he had been resting it, and flicked a few stray cornflakes from his dreadlocks.

Vapour was perched on the Slytherin breakfast table, regarding him with her head on one side. She clucked unhappily at him as she extended her leg. Harry rubbed his eyes as he detached the letter, not noticing his friends regarding him with worry from across the table. The Easter holidays were nearly upon them, and Harry's headaches were no better.

The letter looked somewhat official. It was printed on thick creamy parchment, and had the Ministry of Magic seal on the back. Harry frowned, turning it over in his hands as he wondered what the Ministry could want with him.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Hermione said, leaning over with interest. Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins twitched reflexively, just down the bench. They still hadn't grown accustomed to the muggleborn presence at the table.

Harry broke the seal, and withdrew a letter printed on the same thick parchment. The Ministry crest appeared again at the top, and beneath it was addressed to Mr Harry James Potter.

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _You are hearby invited to attend an official investigation into the events that took place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on the evening of the 30th of December, 1993._

 _The Wizengamot understands that Mr Potter was not present for the events which involved the suspected attack of a basilisk, resulting in the petrification of several students. Mr Potter is instead required to act as a late witness to the actions of the following students; Hermione Jean Granger; Daphne Winter Greengrass and Ginevra Molly Weasley._

 _The Wizengamot will discuss at this juncture the possibility of an Order of Merlin Third Class being awarded to the aforementioned._

 _The investigation will take place on the 3rd of June at the Ministry of Magic. An escort can be arranged by the Ministry, should you be unable to provide your own._

 _We await your owl._

 _Edmund Nott, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic._

"Urgh," Harry sighed, burying his head in his hands. Hermione leaned over and snatched the letter from Harry.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped, scanning the contents. "Ohmygoshohmygoshareyoukiddingme."

Ron made a grab for it, and within mintues, the entire group knew that Ginny, Hermione and Daphne were being nominated for an Order of Merlin. Draco Malfoy seemed to have picked up on this news, and his face was even sourer than usual.

"This is amazing!" Hermione squealed, her chest rising and falling as she took deep breaths. Ron looked rather more distracted by that, than the news about the award.

"Mum's gonna be over the moon," Ginny agreed, her eyes sparkling.

"What about you Daphne?"

Daohne shrugged, picking at her food. She had her head buried in an old manual on muggle material arts that Remus had lent her, and hadn't looked up for the past ten minutes. Ron commented she was becoming worse than Hermione, and received a slap for his words from both witches.

"I wonder why it's not until June," Neville said thoughtfully, picking up the letter and reading it with interest. In the kerfuffle, somebody had knocked a glass of pumpkin juice over, and the creamy parchment now sported orange stains.

"Because they have to finalise all the evidence," Hermione said at once. "And that takes forever. It doesn't help that they never found the basilisk."

Daphne looked up from her book. She smiled a smug, secret smile, and gently slipped one hand into her pocket. "Shame really," she said idly. "You never know where a basilisk is going to end up."

\\\/

The term ended in a series of spring showers. A wet and rainy Easter break was spent at Storm Cottage with Kingsley and Mad-Eye, and a wide selection of Harry's friends who popped in and out, and stayed for varying amounts of time. Mad-Eye commented grumpily that at times he felt as though he was living in Kings Cross Station, but Harry knew he didn't really mind.

It was a subdued holidays because of Harry's ongoing troubles with his scar, and they spent most of it training on the beach with Mad-Eye, making the most of having the grizzled old auror around to teach them. His lessons were very different to Remus', and contained a vicious edge to them. Daphne in particular could be found often in deep discussion with Mad-Eye about bone breaking, and entrail expelling curses. Harry chose not to think too much about it.

Harry was surprised, and slightly disappointed when Sirius and Remus didn't join them, but Kingsley said the pair had returned to Uganda, thanks to growing concerns about the ministry discovering Sirius. The cave on the hill was no longer safe with a fully grown adult dragon just next door. Norbert had apparently now reached twenty foot in length, and was requiring larger and larger quantities of food to sustain him. A dog wandering too close would have made a nice snack for the Norwegian Ridgeback.

\\\/

"I can't bear this any longer!"

Harry raised his head languidly and looked across the Storm Cottage library at Hermione, who was bent over a scroll by the fire. "What's wrong?"

"I can't calculate properly like this," Hermione huffed. "I need a different measuring tool, and I don't have it with me."

Ron and Neville were playing chess in the corner, and both of them stifled snickers. Hermione shot a furious look in their direction, and crumpled up her paper, throwing it into the fire.

"Hey now!" Harry protested mildly. "There's no need for that. What do you need?"

"It's called a speculator," Hermione said huffily, folding her arms. "I'm trying to calculate the properties of a certain potion, and I can't do it in my head."

Harry sighed. The weather had worsened for the last few days of the holidays, and none of them had ventured outside. Stefan, Luna, Ginny and Daphne had all returned home, and it was just Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville again. Initially they had enjoyed returning to their core. But without leaving the house, tempers had become frayed. The atmosphere was becoming stifling.

"Why don't we go and get you a speculator then?" Harry suggested after a moment. "I could do with a trip outside."

"A trip where?"

"Diagon Alley, of course. Kingsley would let us floo there."

Hermione tilted her head, and Harry could see she was considering it. When she cast a regretful look at the last of her parchment turning to ash in the fire, Harry knew she was sold on the idea.

"Excellent." Harry rose to his feet. "It's not even lunchtime yet. I'll go tell Kings' we're going for a couple of hours. Are you coming Ron? Neville? "

"Of course," Ron said, quickly placing a charm over the chessboard to stop the players from attempting to destroy one another in their absence. Neville nodded, and also rose to his feet.

As Harry had predicted, Kingsley had no problem with the group visiting the Wizarding Alley for a couple of hours, and he waved them on their way with a few practiced words about sticking together.

They arrived at Diagon Alley in the largest downpour to hit Britain all day. When the public fireplace regurgitated the four, the rain was thundering down on the narrow cobbled street, and running in rivulets down the cracks. Hermione shrieked as they were hit by a wave of freezing water, and they all sprinted for the closest shop.

Flourish and Blotts was packed with dripping shoppers, all of whom seemed to be dodging the rain. The atmosphere was unpleasantly damp, and too warm. Harry wriggled uncomfortably in his wet robes. Hermione however, seemed to have immediately forgotten her funk, and was perusing the shelves eagerly. Harry sighed, and caught Ron and Neville's eyes. They rolled them simultaneously.

For a short while Harry examined a few books. But the crowd was pressing in around him, and he was uncomfortable with the closeness.

"Hermione? Speculator?" He tried hopefully.

"Mmm. In a minute. Just let me finish this…"

Harry groaned. "I'm going for a walk then."

"Alright. Are you taking Ron and Neville?"

Harry looked around, and realised both of his friends had been swallowed up by the hordes of people. He contemplated the futility of searching for them both, and shook his head.

"No, they're still in here somewhere. Shall I meet you at the Magical Tools shop in half an hour?"

"Yes, alright," Hermione said distractedly, setting aside _Change in Charms_ and picking up _Potions with Persepheus Poison._

\\\/

Harry wandered the streets in the light drizzle, entering every shop that struck his fancy and chatting with various people. Eventually he began directing his feet towards the Magical Tools shop. _Medulus and Twiffles Magical Tools_ was located towards the far end of the alley, closer to Knockturn alley than Harry would have preferred. Hermione was not yet there, so he began browsing the windows of the shops nearby.

As Harry glanced down Knockturn Alley, he noticed a strange little shop on the corner.

It was an unusual place for a store. The other shops were further down the Alley, not crammed on the corner that bisected Diagon and Knockturn. Harry's interest got the better of him, and he tried to look in the windows, but they were covered with a thick layer of crawling plants on the interior. Curious but wary, he went inside.

At first he saw nothing because the store was so dark, but then his eyes adjusted to the faint greenish light that filtered through the windows. A colorful bird with wide tail feathers and a sharp, powerful beak looked at Harry inquisitively from a cage near the window. The walls were covered with plants; vines clung to the ceiling, obscuring all but an old chandelier, and on the floor was a large pot with a yellow flower. A collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls, and a clear crystal ball the size of Harry's head rested on a long counter.

He walked to the counter, carefully stepping around complex machines, crates of rocks, piles of scrolls, and other objects he did not recognize. The wall behind the counter was covered with drawers of every size. Some of them were no larger than his smallest finger, while others were big enough for a barrel. There was a foot-wide gap in the shelves far above.

A pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from the dark space, and a large, fierce cat leapt onto the counter. It had a lean body with powerful shoulders and oversized paws. A shaggy mane surrounded its angular face; its ears were tipped with black tufts. White fangs curved down over its jaw. Altogether, it did not look like any cat Harry had ever seen. It inspected him with shrewd eyes, then flicked its tail dismissively.

"Hello," Harry said, extending a hand towards the cat. It hissed at him in a warning sort of way, and sat on the counter abruptly, staring at him. Harry felt uncomfortable under its gaze.

The door to the shop swung open, letting in a beam of sunlight. A short, plump young woman with cropped hair entered, carrying an armful of books. Her eyes flickered at Harry and she looked startled. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"Sorry," Harry said awkwardly. "I just came in to look around."

The womans face dimpled as she smiled. "By all means, look away. Do you need anything in particular?"

"Not that I can think of. What do you sell here?"

"This and that," said the woman with a grin, setting the bag down on the counter. "Good luck potions and fortune telling for the rich lords, love potions for the rich fool ladies, and sometime even vice versa."

"Do they work?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not in the slightest," the woman said with a cheeky smile. "But rich fools will believe what they want."

"What kind of things do you tell them? " Harry asked, picking up a small crystal ball from the counter. Then he let out a yell - the ball had turned bright red and seared his skin with heat. Even as he dropped it with a clunk, the colour disappeared. Harry nursed his burnt hand scowling.

"Don't touch anything if you're not sure what it's for." The woman winked. "And as for the future readings, well they were nonsense anyway. You're not interested in one are you Harry?"

"How did you know who I am?" Harry asked, suddenly wary.

"The whole world knows who you are!" The woman tossed her head impatiently at him, and Harry laughed.

"I suppose so. But that just makes my future all the more inevitable."

"Not necessarily," the woman said. "In fact Harry, for you...for you I would set aside the nonsense and do a true reading."

"You're a seer?" Harry asked with surprise.

The woman stared at him for a moment, and then nodded to herself. "I think . . ." She gestured at the crystal ball resting on the counter. "That's only for show anyway—it doesn't do anything. But I do have . . . Wait here; I'll be right back." She hurried into a room at the back of the shop.

She came back, breathless, holding a leather pouch, which she set on the counter. "I haven't used these for so long, I almost forgot where they were. Now, sit across from me and I'll show you why I went to all this trouble." Harry found a stool and sat. The cat's eyes glowed from the gap in the drawers.

The witch spread a thick cloth across the table, and carefully removed a set of ancient cards from the pouch. Harry looked at them sceptically, but as the woman turned them over to shuffle them, his scepticism turned to awe. The pictures on the cards were all hand painted, and the most exquisite scenes were laid out across them. As the woman shuffled the cards faster and faster, Harry saw kings and witches, dragons and galleons pouring through her fingers.

"These," she said, touching them gently, "are the Divining Cards of Morgana herself. Don't ask where I got them; it is a secret I won't reveal. But unlike tea leaves, crystal balls, or even rune stones, these have true power. They do not lie, though understanding what they say is . . . complicated. If you wish, I will cast and read them for you. But understand that to know one's fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision."

Harry looked at the cards with a feeling of dread. "Why do you offer this?" he asked.

"Because your fate, Harry Potter, has been debated by others from the moment you were born. I offer you the chance to see the truth for yourself."

Harry took a deep breath. He knew too much about magic to be able to immediately dismiss the fortune telling as false.

"I want to know," Harry decided. The witch nodded, as though she hadn't expected any other decision.

"Choose three for me."

The woman fanned the cards out on the cloth, and looked at Harry expectantly. He selected three at random. The witch picked up the cards and shuffled them again, before asking to pick another two. Then she put away the remainder of the cards, and laid out the five Harry had selected.

Minutes slowly passed as she studied the cards. Finally, the witch leaned back and heaved a long sigh. She wiped her brow and pulled out a dusty bottle of firewhiskey from under the counter. "Do you want some?" she asked. Harry shook his head. She shrugged and drank deeply. "This," she said, wiping her mouth, "is the hardest reading I've ever done. I've never seen a destiny so tangled."

"So it didn't work?" Harry asked, looking at the cards laid out.

"I could divine some answers," the woman conceded. "But it was like drawing blood from a stone." Harry clenched his hands as she pointed to one of the cards. "I will start here," she said slowly, "because it is the clearest to understand."

The picture on the card was an ancient and withered tree, drooping over a lake. "The elm," the witch said quietly. "A long life. I cannot tell whether it means you will have a normal life span, or a longer than natural one, but either way be sure that many years lie before you."

Harry nodded. If the reading was fake, it was a fairly unprovable predication to make.

"Now things become a little more complicated. See there - The Wanderer is to the right of The Executioner, and below is the Ocean. A pattern I've never seen, only heard of. The The Wanderer shows that there are many choices in your future. A terrible destiny has been placed upon you, but it is your own choice whether or not you fulfil it. Battles will rage around you, some fought for your sake. Countless possible futures lie ahead of you, filled with blood and conflict, but only one choice will lead to happiness."

Here her face grew sad. "The Executioner. Many deaths lies in your future, and they are rapidly approaching. I cannot tell whether they be friend or foe. And, you will lose - for a time - someone you hold very dear, and it will cause you much grief. But here see -" she gestured at the card that depicted a calm sea. "This is unmistakeable. Your life will reach a point where you will be driven from this land by those who wish you ill, forced to flee and seek refuge across a great ocean. It will be your choice as to whether you ever return."

The witch's words frightened Harry. _Across the ocean? Does she mean Uganda? But who could drive me away from Britain so surely that I wish to never return except for Voldemort. And death? Who else must I lose?_

The witch rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. Harry rubbed his scar unconsciously and grimaced. The fortune telling had made him uncomfortable, and the talk of death and losing someone he loved had made him wary.

Then the witch laughed. "Put it from your mind," she said easily, following his thoughts. "You are very young yet, I speak of the rest of your life, not the weeks that lie ahead!"

Harry grinned. "After all that, death might be welcome!"

"It might be," said the witch solemnly, then laughed slightly. "But you shouldn't fret about what has yet to occur. The only way the future can harm us is by causing worry. I guarantee that you'll feel better once you're out in the sun."

"I think so," Harry nodded. He glanced around the shop. The cat was still observing them from between the shelves. On a whim, tentatively, Harry reached out and tried to touch his mind.

" _Piss off, stinking human."_

The cat projected his thoughts for the whole room to here, sprang to his feet and stalked out of the door. The witch burst into peals of laughter. "Oh dear! Did you try and read his mind? It's really much more polite to ask, you know."

"He's…intelligent," Harry exclaimed.

"Well of course he is." The witch's eyes flashed. "He's my companion, after all."

"Can you talk to him?"

She tossed her head. "Of course, but that doesn't mean he'll say anything back."

"I'll bet," Harry muttered wryly. "I think in the future I'll stick to snakes."

The woman's face changed. "You're a parselmouth," she breathed, shaking her head. What I wouldn't give to have front row seats to the rest of your life! Your past is a mystery to all, yet you arrive in my shop aged twelve, with the ability to touch minds. You can speak to snakes, and you have a most interesting destiny. It is not nearly as set in stone as people seem to believe it to be."

"By most people, do you mean Dumbledore?" Harry asked crossly.

The witch burst out laughing. "Ah that one! Quite the reputation in my circles. But he's really - well he's not that bad. Many of us find him rather amusing, in fact."

"Amusing?"

"Well his destiny is something of a joke to those of us with the ability to see these things."

"How?" Harry asked, scratching his head. His feelings for the headmaster were complex, but humour had not entered into it.

The witch grinned. "His whole life has been a series of disasters. He is the greatest wizard alive, yet his very powers are that which doom him. He has had in his grasp a few chances for true happiness over the course of his life, and each time he has failed to take it. Many years ago I told the fortune of Albus Dumbledore. He didn't like it at all, and has not sought me out since. He even turned me down for the position of divination teacher at Hogwarts over a decade ago."

"A decade?" Harry protested. "You can't be that old."

The witch smiled. "I'm far older than I look, Harry Potter."

"What's your name?"

The witch's smile broadened. "I have many names, and have been known by even more over the years of my life. But you may call me Ana."

"Just Ana?" Harry said.

"Just Ana," the witch confirmed.

"I think I have to go," said Harry, shaken.

"If you want to," said Ana, smiling again. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. But go if you wish; I'm sure that I've given you enough to ponder for a while."

"Yes." Harry quickly made his way to the door. "Thank you for reading my future."

"You're welcome," said Ana, still smiling.

Harry exited the shop and stood in the street, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the brightness. It was a few minutes before he could think calmly about what he had learned. Then he remembered Hermione and the others, and began to run down the street until he reached the Magical Tools shop. Hermione was standing outside with Neville and Ron, clutching a paper bag and looking worried.

"Harry!" She burst out as soon as she saw him. "Where have you been? We've been so worried!"

Something in Harry told him not to admit to anyone where he had been. "I got lost," he lied reluctantly. "Sorry."

But as he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling and listening to the waves crashing on the shore, he heard the words echoed over and over in his head.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	37. Chapter 37

Thanks to everyone who - loudly and repeatedly - reminded me i forgot to put a disclaimer for the previous chapter. I'll head back and sort it out when I get the time. No this isn't a crossover fic, I just liked the idea and it fitted well with what I had in mind.

Year Two

Chapter Nineteen

\\\/

Harry told nobody about his visit to Ana's shop. Once outside in the sunshine, he felt foolish for how affecting he had found the fortune-telling - and put the matter with the witch and her cat from his mind entirely.

As the Easter holidays finished, the stormy weather seemed to blow itself out, and the students returned to find Hogwarts bathed in sunshine. Morning exercises were a positive pleasure, although Harry and the others often returned to the castle dripping with sweat and panting heavily. Remus was pushing them harder than ever, particularly the four who had catching up to do.

Daphne never again mentioned the scars that covered her body. While Harry and the others saw them every day, they soon grew numb to the sight of the wounds. Many attempts were made to draw the proud girl from her shell, but none prevailed. Harry and the others threatened, cajoled and pleaded with Daphne to allow them to report the matter to somebody who could prevent Daphne's father from harming his daughter, but their entreaties fell on deaf ears. Daphne refused all offers of help, and stopped speaking to Ginny for several days after the redhead pushed the matter too far. Eventually they let the matter rest. There was little else they could do in the face of such willful discontentment.

Exams were just around the corner, and the teachers were pushing the students to their limits. Once more Harry and the others found themselves spending long hours in the library. Ginny and Luna had an easier ride, being first years, but really nobody could have an easy ride when Hermione was on their case.

"I'm sick of this," Ron groaned one night, banging his head on the desk. "We've been here since eight!"

Harry looked up sympathetically. The six second years were sequestered in the library at the study tables. The library was almost deserted at this time, and only Madam Pince remained behind her desk, casting them occasional suspicious glances.

"It's only ten Ron," Hermione said, looking up from her notes. "Besides, look at your study timetable. You've still got another half hour of Transfiguration revision."

Harry and Neville, who were sitting together on the floor, studiously avoided one anothers eyes. Hermione had been so pleased with her colour coded revision timetables that none of them had the heart to refuse her.

"Ron," Hermione said sharply, peering over at him. "What's that?"

"What? Er - nothing!" Ron said guiltily, tucking his book against his chest.

Hermione stretched out a hand and grabbed the corner of Ron's book, and a brief tussle ensued. Hermione emerged the winner, red faced but successful, clutching a copy of The Quidditch Companion, a popular sporting magazine.

"Aha! I knew it! You weren't even studying!" Hermione's voice rose indignantly.

Harry slowly rose to his feet as Hermione berated Ron, who looked pleadingly at his friends. Grinning widely, Harry and Neville backed towards the door. Catching sight of their plan, Stefan joined them. Outside the library the three boys ran for it, sprinting down the hallway muffling their giggles.

"I love Hermione," Stefan panted, tears in the corner of his eyes as they came to a halt. "But if I have to spend one more evening studying with those accursed colour coded timetables."

"Blue is for potions," Harry said straight-faced. "To represent the colour of a perfectly brewed wit-sharpening potion."

"Green is for herbology," Neville took up the thread. "To represent the magical plants you care for and help to grow."

Stefan grinned, and delivered the punchline to their popular joke. "And white is for charms. So you can imagine the streams of magic leaving your wand to do your bidding, in every way you can possibly imagine."

The three boys howled with laughter, bending over double and patting each other in the back in merriment. They had been mocking Hermione's unintended double entendre since she had first explained the timetables.

"Really," a voice nearby drawled. "Making noise in the halls at ten o'clock at night when you should be in bed. You're going to miss curfew and get Slytherin in trouble."

"Malfoy." Harry straightened up, his laughter ceasing immediately. "What are you doing here?"

"This is a public corridor Potter," Malfoy drawled. "I'm walking."

"Go walk somewhere else then," Neville said abruptly.

Malfoy sneered at them. He was alone, which surprised Harry. Malfoy didn't usually leave the Slytherin common room without Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy by his side. There was something up with the pale blond. His eyes were glittering with an unexplained glee.

"No friends tonight," Harry taunted. Malfoy smiled nastily.

"Funny you should mention that. Actually I've just come back from the owlery. Important news from father about the Ministry. Naturally he thought I ought to know."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing. Kingsley hadn't mentioned anything in his latest letter.

What's the matter Potter? Don't know what's going on? Nevermind, I'm sure you'll find out at breakfast like everyone else."

Malfoy walked away, the strut in his step making Harry long to hex him.

"What is he talking about?" Stefan said, tilting his head to one side.

"No idea," Harry sighed. "But I'm sure we'll find out at breakfast."

\\\/

Sure enough, the headlines the following morning were enough to set the hall buzzing.

WHERE IS THE MINISTER OF MAGIC?

Flight or foul? The curious non-appearance of Minister Crouch.

The Daily Prophet today brings to your doorstep the worrying news that the whereabouts of our Minister of Magic cannot currently be accounted for. Minister Crouch has been missing, presumed ill for several days. This morning our correspondant can confirm that when Minister Crouch was not present to lead this month's gathering of the Wizengamot without so much as a note, rumours began to fly.

"No we've not seen him," Chief Healer Dai Llewellyn told us from St Mungo's this morning. "Not that we'd be giving out interviews like freshly baked cauldron cakes if we had. We hold a very serious view on patient confidentiality here. But the Minister himself has never required our services."

What, then, we might ask, is this mysterious illness afflicting our head of government? In a bid to answer this question our reporter visited Crouch Manor this morning to give Minister Crouch the opportunity to set the rumours to rest. Our correspondant was shocked to find the Manor deserted, and a house elf confirmed that the Minister of Magic had not been there for several days.

"The Minister is a very busy man, who often travels as part of his duties to Britain," Senior Undersecretary Edmund Nott told us. "This nonsense about a disappearance is just that - nonsense. I am certain that the Minister will return soon."

Heartening though this confidence is, our reporter cannot help but feel a little disconcerted by the lack of facts backing up this statement. Minister Crouch has not been known to travel in the past, nor did he leave any note to his whereabouts. Until the Minister sees fit to return to his post, the Prophet will continue asking the question - Where is our Minister of Magic?

"Merlin," Ron said, reading over Harry's shoulder. "That doesn't sound good. Bet dad's worried."

"How very strange," Stefan said, frowning in concentration and absentmindedly attempting to use his wand as a fork.

"It's not strange," Luna piped up. They all turned to look at the little blonde. "Well its quite obvious where he is," Luna shrugged.

"Where?" Harry asked curiously. Could Luna know something they didn't?

"Daddy said when Crouch was elected that this would happen. The Minister has been in cohorts with the League of Sentient Erklings for decades, and they're plotting to take over Wizarding society and enslave us all."

Harry looked into Luna's wide earnest eyes. There was no trace of guile there. There was a long moment of silence at the Slytherin table, and then a dull thud as Malfoy banged his forehead into the table.

"That's it. I'm leaving Hogwarts," Malfoy said calmly, straightening up with a red mark on his forehead. "If she sits with us one more time."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other in bewilderment as Harry snorted with laughter. Suddenly Stefan accidentally jabbed his wand into his bacon again and there was a flash and a bang.

They all flinched, but when they opened their eyes they found Stefan had somehow transfigured his bacon rashers into tiny, perfectly formed, miniature pink piglets. Chaos ensued as the piglets scrabbled frantically to get off Stefan's plate and dashed up the table, squealing with terror and looking over their shoulders at Stefan.

The piglets upended plates and dishes, sent scrambled eggs flying into the laps of a group of first years, and knocked over a jug of pumpkin juice. Pansy Parkinson threw herself backwards to get away from them, falling from the bench in her hurry, and Harry and Ron roared with laughter.

"This is more fun than we've had in weeks," Harry grinned.

Suddenly there was another bang, and the piglets exploded in a puff of smoke, collapsing back into rashers of bacon. Hermione tucked her wand away, looking pleased with herself.

"There you go Stefan," she said briskly. "Eat up."

"I think I will become a vegetarian," Stefan said, looking faintly green. "There's something about seeing your food running away from you in terror that makes you feel bad about eating it."

"Suit yourself," Ron said, loading up his plate gleefully.

Harry shook his head in amusement, and returned to the newspaper. But it was no good. The pumpkin juice had soaked right though the front page, and the ink had already run. Harry couldn't muster the energy to spell it back to normal, and gave it up as a bad job.

\\\/

The whole school seemed to be intensely interested in the fate of the Minister of Magic. Overnight it had become a mystery - an enigma that no one could solve. Crouch had no family, so there was nobody to question.

Every day the Daily Prophet ran editorials updating the Wizarding world with their news. Not that they ever had very much to say - the columns were filled with speculation and letters from readers. Everyday it seemed there would be a new sighting of Crouch somewhere, but all the leads came to naught.

Kingsley and Mad-Eye had their own theories which they shared with Harry. None of them were good, but they were realists. Harry had been suffering for weeks with agonising headaches connected to his scar. Everything seemed to lead back to Voldemort. But what the connection was, none of them knew.

"I just wish I knew what this meant!" Harry burst out one evening, rubbing his forehead. His scar had been prickling all day, and he was dreading having to get up for training the next day.

It was a warm evening in early May, and the group of eight were sitting out on the front steps of the castle, enjoying the balmy air and the promise of summer. Well, seven of them were. Luna was over by the lake, dipping her toes into the water and trying to entice the giant squid to take a nibble.

"Is it your scar again?" Stefan asked, sounding concerned.

"Always," Harry said bitterly. He didn't mean to sound so grumpy, but living with the constant ache in his forehead had begun to drain him.

"Have you spoken to Kingsley about it?" Hermione asked, bumping down a step to sit beside him.

"No," Harry admitted. "They have enough to worry about."

"You should tell them," Neville said, twisting his head to face Harry. "It's gone on long enough now. This is getting ridiculous."

Harry felt embarrassed. Neville was usually quiet, and only said something when he really meant it. But Harry didn't want to trouble his guardians with his problems. They had enough difficulty as it was, between dancing the fine line avoiding both the death eaters, the ministry and Dumbledore.

"Tell them mate," Ron agreed.

"I will," Harry said, wishing he hadn't mentioned anything. He felt beleaguered, even though he knew his friends were only trying to help. "Next time I see them I will."

But when Harry went to bed that night, he lay down with an aching head and a reluctance to seek out help that he couldn't quite explain. He tossed and turned for several hours, the sheets bunching under his uncomfortably and the pillow hot against his face. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

\\\/

He was being carried down a hallway in somebody's arms. The arms were wrapped firmly around him, protectively even, but there was no tenderness. Harry hissed crossly as he bobbed along, seething at the indignity of being carried in this manner.

They followed the large hallway until they reached a narrow corridor with an antechamber. There was nothing in the antechamber except a bookcase, filled with ancient tomes with cracked spines and faded writing.

The man carrying Harry gently transfered the weight of his burden to one arm, and extracted a wand. He quickly tapped three different books with it, and then stowed it. The bookcase gave a creak and a groan, and then slid sideways to reveal a narrow, descending staircase.

The spiral staircase took them deep into the earth. They descended, the man's footsteps almost noiseless as they rounded corner after corner.

At the bottom lay a dark tunnel, dripping with slime and unpleasant noises. Without pause or hesitation, the man carried him down the unlit tunnel without lighting his wand. He did not stumble once in the darkness. They had been walking for only a few minutes when they stopped.

"Lumos," the carrier muttered.

In the sudden glow, Harry could see their surroundings. Looming out of the gloom was a large mahogany door, at odds with the miserable tunnel. As he watched, the door swung open before him, and the guide entered.

On the other side of the door was a dark chamber. The walls lay hidden in velvet shadows, and a line of flameless lanterns mounted on iron poles ran straight out from either side of the entranceway, illuminating only a few feet in each direction. The row of lanterns ended near the base of a broad dais, upon which rested a sumptuous chair.

The chair was empty.

His guide carried him forward between the row of lanterns, and stepped up on the dias.

"My Lord," the man murmured, as he gently set his burden down on the chair, overlooking the whole room.

Harry squirmed helplessly, until he reached a more comfortable position. The other man knew better than to offer to assist him.

"Where iss he." Harry voice that emitted from his mouth was a high pitched hiss.

"I am here, my Lord." A second man stepped out of the shadows and into the light. He was older than the first man, with a lined face and greying hair.

"Good. Come close, where I can see you both."

The two men approached him. The first and younger was licking his lips nervously. Good.

"Report."

The two men glanced at each other, before the older spoke hesitantly.

"My Lord, the news has leaked. The disappearance of the Minister of Magic was not something that could be kept a secret for long, and the papers found out.

Harry hissed with displeasure, and both men flinched.

"How did they find out?"

The younger man with straw coloured hair licked his lips again, before speaking, and his voice trembled.

"My Lord, my father was supposed to appear to lead the Wizengamot. When he didn't appear they came to the Manor. They spoke to Winky. She told them the truth - that she had no idea where he was. A reporter heard of it, and published it in the Daily Prophet."

Harry didn't speak, instead letting his eyes express his fury as his gaze washed over them. Both men quailed beneath the look, and the younger fell to his knees below the dias.

"My Lord!" He grovelled to the ground. "The plan is ready. I can do this, it matters not that the news is out. By tomorrow everything will be under control.

Harry held his silence for another moment, letting the man grovel. Then he spoke.

"Bring him."

The younger man raised his face hopefully to the throne. He rose to his feet, and then turned and dashed into the darkness. The older man watched him go with an impassive stare.

"Do you think he will do it?"

The remaining man looked unnerved to be asked, and his self control wavered. It was obvious he was struggling to identify the correct answer.

"Yes, my Lord," he said at last. "But should he fail, I would not hesitate to carry out your orders."

They waited in silence for a moment. There was a sound from the darkness, that began quietly and became louder. A grunting noise of exertion, and a scraping, as though something was being dragged along a rough ground. After a moment, an odd hunchbacked shape appeared from the shadows.

The shape came into the light and resolved itself into the younger man. He was dragging a much older man along the ground behind him, panting with the exertion.

The man on the ground was unconscious, and oblivious to the fact that he was being dragged as unceremoniously as though he were a sack of potatoes. As he was hauled towards the row of lanterns his slack face was illuminated. He was thin and unshaven, but bore a close resemblance to the younger man.

When they reached the dias, the younger man looked up, panting.

"I brought him, my Lord. Would you like me to do it now?"

Harry smiled, letting his tongue flicker out between his lips. The young man paled.

"Yesss. But wake him first.

"W-wake him, my Lord? Should I not just...do it?"

"Afraid Barty?" The older man murmured, his eyes fixed on the scene before him.

"I'm not afraid!" The younger man hissed, drawing his wand and gesturing over the unconscious man.

"Ennervate!"

The man on the floor awoke with a shudder and a cry. His eyes fell upon the younger man, and his expression became terrible. He scrambled to his feet, reaching hopelessly for his absent wand.

"Barty! How could you?"

"How could I? How could you leave me to rot under the imperious?" The younger man snarled, his apprehension no longer showing.

"You disgraced this family when you joined those vile murderers," the captive man said, straightening himself up and dusting his robes. Harry was impressed by the man's lack of fear.

"Your mother was always too soft - you should have rotted in Azkaban."

"Don't talk about mother!"

"Your mother was a good woman - I'll never know how she produced you." The captive said dismissively, his voice scathing. The younger man scowled, his face black and terrible. His fingers twitched as his sides, and he seemed about to launch himself at the captive.

"Enough!" Harry hissed, his patience at an end. "This foolish family discourse is wasting my time. Do it now."

The captive paled, but looked steadily at his son, not sparing even a glance in the direction of the others. Once again, Harry found himself impressed. Not many men could hear their own death approaching, and look it in the eye with courage. It was almost a shame the man had to die.

"Barty," the man said quietly. "Don't do this. Don't waste your mother's sacrifice. Just think what she would say if she saw you now."

The younger man was the colour of sour milk. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at the heart of the other man.

"You were never a father to me," he said softly, and without preamble. Then he closed his eyes, as though unable to watch his own traitorous wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

\\\/

Harry awoke with a jolt, panting. He lay in the darkness fora moment, his heart racing and his head spinning. Then he sat up, his wand already in his hand.

"Lumos," he murmured. A soft glow appeared before him, illuminating the inside of his four poster bed. The Slytherin green curtains made him emit a sigh of relief. For a moment he had been convinced he was going to see that dark throne room before him.

Harry out his head in his hands for a moment, letting the dream sink in. Then he threw back his bed covers and sprang out of bed. He dressed hurriedly, and ran up the stairs to the common room.

The fire was burning low. Only a few embers remained, glowing obstinately in the grate. Harry rummaged through his pockets until he found what he was looking for - the small leather pouch of floo powder he carried everywhere.

Harry trickled out a handful of the green powder into his hand, and slipped the pouch back into his pocket. Then he cast the powder down into the grate. The embers roared up in to emerald flames, climbing up the fireplace.

Harry knelt down, took a deep breath, and stuck his head into the fire.

"Storm Cottage!"

Harry felt nauseous as he was thrown through the floo system. He hated the methods of travel employed by British wizards. Finally the rooms stopped spinning, and his vision cleared. Harry blinked soot from his eyes.

It was dark in the little kitchen that Harry found his head peering into. There was nobody around, and only a faint smell of freshly baked bread.

"Marley?" Harry called softly.

There was a sharp crack. Then the little house elf in his deep purple toga appeared in front of Harry.

"Master Harry!" Marley squeaked, in the quietest voice Harry had ever heard him use. "What be you doing here Master Harry? It is the middle of the night when the young master should be sleeping!"

"I need Kingsley," Harry said urgently. "Please. I need you to go and wake him up and bring him down here."

"Marley will go, Master Harry," the elf cried, forgetting to keep his voice down. Harry winced as the little creature dashed from the room, toppling a chair in his haste.

Harry waited in the dark kitchen. His knees were beginning to ache uncomfortably, and the darkened room reminded him of hism dream in the most unpleasant manner. Just when Harry thought he could take no more, there was a scuffling at the door, and then Kingley hurried in, dressed in only a white nightshirt.

"Harry," Kingsley said quickly, dropping to his knees in front of the fire. "What's wrong? Whats the matter? Are you alright?"

"It's not me," Harry said, shivering. "I had a dream. But it wasn't a dream - it was real."

Kingsley nodded. Dreams that were real were not at all uncommon in Ugandan culture, and were always taken very seriously. Harry was glad he didn't have to waste time convincing Kingsley that he hadn't imagined it.

"What happened?" Kingsley asked gently, his eyes dark and liquid in the firelight.

"It's the Minister of Magic. It's Minister Crouch. He's dead."

\\\/

After Harry explained everything that had happened, Kingsley convinced Harry to come through the fire and spend the night in his old room at Storm Cottage. He argued that Harry had experienced a terrible shock, and shouldn't have to return to the Slytherin dormitory. And that if Crouch was really dead, immediate action would not make any difference, and things could wait until morning.

Nonetheless, as Harry snuggled up in his own bed, sipping a mug of hot chocolate from Marley and listening to the familiar sound of the waves pounding the shore, he heard voices. Kingsley and Mad-Eye were downstairs talking. The voices continued into the early hours of the morning, although the Mad-Eye did not come upstairs to speak to Harry. Eventually Harry fell into a restless sleep.

In the morning the two men grilled Harry for every detail of his dream, over a large breakfast cooked by Marley. The two men wanted every last tiny detail.

"So tell me again," growled Mad-Eye. "Who was the man carrying Voldemort?"

"I didn't recognise him," Harry said. "Erm. He was youngish. Yellow hair, nervous tic. I don't know!"

"This isn't good enough," Kingsley said, shaking his head. "I'm fetching a pensieve."

When Kingsley returned carrying the stone basin, Harry eyed it with trepidation. He had never used a pensieve for his own memories before, although he had viewed others.

"What do I do?" Harry asked nervously.

"I'll do it for you Harry," Kingsley smiled encouragingly. "Just think of the memory you want to bring to the surface, and I'll draw it down into the bowl. When you're ready."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He focussed very hard on his dream, trying to go over every aspect of it, and remember every word and gesture. From the back of his mind, he felt a drawing sensation coming from his temple, as Kingsley placed his wand there and began to collect the memories. When he felt the sensation cease, he opened his eyes.

Kingsley was holding a long silvery strand of memory on the end of his wand, and he lowered it gently into the penseive. As the memory hit the surface of the contents, it glowed brightly and swirled in the bowl. Kingsley smiled encouragingly at Harry.

"Nothing to it," he said. "Shall we go? Coming Alastor?"

"I don't want to," Harry said uncomfortably. He hated to admit it, but he had no desire to relieve the dream. "Do you need me?"

"You stay here laddie," Mad-Eye said. "We'll go in."

Mad-Eye and Kingsley nodded to each other, and then each placed a finger in the pensieve. At once their faces became blank , and their features slackened.

Harry waited, his fingers drumming a nervous pattern on the table. It seemed to go on forever. Finally after fifteen minutes, Mad-Eye and Kingsley opened their eyes. Kingsley shook his head experimentally, and then smiled reassuringly at Harry.

Mad-Eye wasn't smiling.

"Barty Crouch!" Mad-Eye hissed, banging his fist on the table and making the plates rattle. "That filthy little turncoat was supposed to be dead!"

"Who?" Harry asked uncomprehendingly. "The minister?"

"Minister Crouch's son," Kingsley said patiently, rubbing his eyes in weariness. "We spoke about it when Crouch began running for Minister. His son, who also carries the name Bartemius, was convicted of death eater activity after the fall of Voldemort. He died in Azkaban - or so everyone thought."

"How can he be there?" Harry asked, horrified and fascinated. Nobody answered for a moment.

"Did you recognise the hallway in the beginning?" Kingsley asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "It's Crouch Manor, isn't it? I recognised it from the Winter Gala."

"Yes," Mad-Eye growled. "Which means we know where Voldemort is playing hide and seek from."

"And the other man, Harry? I take it you know who he was?"

"It was Nott, wasn't it?" Harry said. "Theodore's father."

"That's right," Kinglsey nodded.

Harry didn't know what to say. He looked around the dining room. With light streaming through the windows and the sound of the waves in the distance, the horrors of the night seemed so far away. In the kitchen he could hear Marley clattering the plates. Harry looked across at his guardians. The bright light illuminated them, and Harry could see the lines of exhaustion on their faces. He swallowed.

"What happens next?" Harry asked in a quieter voice.

Mad-Eye opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Kingsley sighed.

"There's three of them, so far as we know. Edmund Nott, Crouch Junior, and Voldemort himself. All hiding out in the dungeons under Crouch Manor, and they've just killed the Minister of Magic. Merlin knows what they're planning to do next, but it's plain they've got something in mind. We need to act before that can happen."

"What can we do?" Harry asked, looking nervously at his guardians. The last thing he wanted was for them to put themselves in danger, no matter how he knew they had been preparing for it their whole lives.

"Firstly we wait for re-enforcement," Mad-Eye growled. "What's rule three?"

"Never go into an unpredictable fight without every piece of backup you have available to you," Harry recited automatically.

"And the sub heading?"

"Every fight is unpredictable."

"Good."

"Stop drilling him Alastor," Kingsley sighed, draining his cup of coffee and setting it back on the table. "We're bringing in everyone we can Harry. Remus and Sirius are on their way now. We can count on Tonks too, which makes five of us. Five against three - one crippled - is good odds. We can catch them off guard before they have time to prepare."

"No!" Harry cried, springing to his feet. "You can't be talking about going in there on your own!"

"We're not in our own," Kingsley said patiently. "Didn't you hear?"

"I'm coming with you," Harry insisted, pushing his chair back and walking around the table to stand in front of the two men. "It's what you've trained me all my life for."

"Not for this laddie," Mad-Eye shook his grizzled head. "Not Voldemort. Not yet. You're not ready."

"You let me come and break Sirius out of Azkaban!" Harry hissed. "That was dangerous!"

"That was different Harry," Kingsley said calmly. "We considered the risks carefully, and decided it was minimal with all of us for backup. This is totally different. We have no idea what we're walking into."

"That's why you need me," Harry insisted stubbornly. "The more the better."

"No," Kingsley repeated, shaking his head firmly. "Absolutely not. If you get killed then we're all doomed. You're our last hope."

Looking into his father's immovable eyes, Harry knew it was hopeless. Kingsley would never change his mind.

"Why do you have to go?" Harry asked quietly. "You're aurors! Why can't you make the ministry handle it."

"Because the head of the Ministry is dead," Mad-Eye said flatly. "And we don't know why. We don't know what plans they're setting in motion, or if they have anyone on the inside. Our only hope is to strike with the information you gave us, before they have time to grow any more powerful. And we have to act fast. Kill them all."

Harry nodded. He understood, and it made sense. But that didn't mean he liked it.

"How fast?"

Kingsley frowned, and looked at Mad-Eye. The older auror sighed deeply.

"Tomorrow. At the latest."

\\\/

Thanks for reading

Cas


	38. Chapter 38

It's been a little while! I hope everyone enjoyed Christmas and New Year. I've had so much on my hands between holiday homework and my son learning to crawl that I've been rushed off my feet. Thankfully I believe things will happen faster from now on, and the updates should arrive quicker.

Year Two

Chapter Twenty

\\\/

Harry returned to Hogwarts after breakfast, deeply disturbed by the events of the night. Kingsley and Mad-Eye had insisted that Harry return before suspicions were raised about his absence, but promised to send an owl containing the details once they had met up with Remus and Sirius. Harry was under no illusions about what form the message would take. No doubt his blood would be required before the letter would so much as unfold.

Harry had a sick feeling in his stomach as he climbed the stairs towards the main floor. He felt tired and ill at the thought of all four of his mentors facing against Voldemort. Particularly without him. Harry wasn't naive about his abilities - he knew he wasn't ready to face Voldemort fully returned to life. But this twisted little half-life he was inhabiting? Harry was sure that with the four men beside him he would be in no danger from the Voldemort-creature.

Harry wondered if he should have told his mentors about the pains he had been experiencing in his scar. Although he had told Kingsley that he had been experiencing uneasy dreams for weeks, he had neglected to mention his scar ache. This was a deliberate ommission. Harry had shared the important information about Voldemort, but down-played the pain he had been experiencing in the process.

Harry knew it would only cause Kingsley to worry. And frankly, his father worried quite enough about him as it was.

\\\/

Harry was correct. Kingsley Shacklebolt worried about Harry Potter incessantly.

It was a compulsive, constant tug on the seams of his mind that no reassurance could shake, that dogged his days and seeped into his dreams. When they were in seperate countries it was as though Kingsley was missing a limb, and when Harry was at Hogwarts it was worse.

Things had been bad enough in Harry's younger years with Alastor-bloody-Moody frequently showing up and running off with the boy for the day - disguising the child and taking him to the Ministry and various other unpleasant and potentially dangerous places. Now that Harry was at Hogwarts, Kingsley spent his entire waking life in a state of nervous tension, thinly veneered by his mask of calm composure.

Nothing but the sight of his adopted son in front of him, safe and sound, would calm Kingsley's nervous soul and allow him to relax.

Kingsley put his head in his hands and sighed. Harry had only left an hour ago and already he was worried about the events of the night. Harry hadn't gone easily. Understandably the boy was angry about Alastor's decision to keep him away from the inevitable fight.

But Harry was so young! Not even thirteen years old. The very thought of allowing his precious son within a hundred miles of Voldemort was both ludicrous and petrifying.

"Would Master Kingsley like some tea?" A voice squeaked by his elbow.

Kinglsey looked down to see Marley hovering anxiously beside him, twisting his long fingers into his purple toga.

"No tea thank you," Kingsley said after a moment. "I would prefer coffee this morning. Black, please."

Marley disappeared to fetch the drink, and Kingsley gazed out of the dining room window. The light was streaming through the window, and dancing off the waves in the bay beyond, so the sparkling ripples of the sea looked like a thousand glistening diamonds. The sky was clear and blue, and the sand was pale and inviting.

It looked like a perfect day.

Kingsley sighed again. He was thirty seven years old, but he felt more like ninety. When he looked in the mirror that morning he had barely recognised his own haggard features.

The threat of Voldemort had been hanging over them for so many years it sometimes felt as though Harry would never be free to escape it.

Sometimes Kingsley wondered if a normal life was simply not meant for a man like him, or a boy like Harry.

"Your coffee, Master." Marley chirped, entering the room at a brisk pace balancing a round tray before him.

"Thank you Marley," Kingsley said quietly, as the little house elf laid out the cup and saucer.

"Is Master quite well?" Marley asked, his ears drooping slightly. "Master was awake almost all night."

"I am fine Marley," Kingsley said, rubbing his eyes. "I'm just over tired, and feeling far too inclined to dwell on the past this morning."

"Ah," Marley nodded wisely. "Master is worrying about young master Harry."

Kingsley frowned. "Yes I suppose I am," he agreed, lifting the coffee to his lips. The sharp taste brought him back to himself a little, and he felt restored.

"Don't worry Master," Marley said confidently. "Young master Harry will be fine at Hogwarts. There is nothing to be worrying about."

"Thank you Marley."

When the house elf had collected the tray and departed, Kingsley picked up his coffee again. He was alone in the house. Alastor had left to go to work, and Remus had gone to the international portkey point to meet Sirius.

Gazing out of the window with his eyes unfocussed, Kingsley allowed his mind to drift back to the past.

On that terrible, wonderful day in 1981 when Alastor Moody had plonked the chunky infant Harry Potter unceremoniously into his arms, Kingsley had entered into an agreement that he never in his wildest dreams would have expected. Alastor had insisted that Kingsley would be responsible for raising this orphaned child, in a desperate bid to save him from the fate they feared lay ahead.

Kingsley had agreed for many reasons. Firstly was a sense of duty to the Wizarding world. Long ago in a more idealistic time, he had become an auror to save people. Yet he and his contemporaries had failed to save Lily and James Potter.

But that alone would not have been enough to sway his mind.

Second, Alastor Moody was terrifying when you told him 'no.' In fact, you simply didn't tell him 'no.' Ever. The head of the Auror Corps was respected and feared by the younger recruits, and the thought of denying any duty that he might request of a younger auror, was not a thought that ever crossed the mind - unless you wanted to find an unpleasant change to your duties, and a mark on your record. And that was on a good day. On a bad day Alastor Moody would curse first, ask questions later.

But the main reason Kingsley had accepted this strange, white child was actually nothing at all to do with Harry Potter. Nor Alastor Moody, Dumbledore, or even the threat of Voldemort.

Kinglsey Shacklebolt agreed to take baby Harry because of his wife.

Abruptly he stood from the table and placed the cup of coffee back in the saucer with a distant clink. Suddenly the air inside felt suffocating, and he knew he had to leave the cottage. Thinking about his wife was a train of thought that Kingsley allowed his mind to wander down very, very rarely.

Striding through the house, Kingsley threw open the front door and shut it firmly behind him. The scent of salt was strong in the seaside air, and the seagulls were crying overhead ceaselessly as they wheeled and glided on invisible air currents.

Kingsley walked more slowly down to the beach, and stood in front of the waves. The light reflected from the sea was so bright it made his eyes hurt. Every breath he took tasted like summer, and in the distance King!sey could hear Nicholas Flamel humming as he watered the plants in his garden.

A perfect day.

If only she could have seen it.

Kingsley massaged his temples and squinted out over the bay. The lure of the past was strong here, even though he was a thousand miles away from Uganda - even though no English summer sun could ever be mistaken for the blazing African sun.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't," Kingsley muttered. He bent down and picked up a smooth pebble from the sand, turning it over and over in his hand. Then he let his mind wander.

They had met as children in the Namiya Village. Even as a small boy, Kingsley had been aware of her presence.

When Kingsley's mother let him run out to play in the morning, he had always headed for the river where the children his age played. His younger sister Nabirye had tagged along like an irritating fly, and, full of his own importance, he grandly allowed her to do so.

But when they reached the river, his sister ran to her own friends, and the little girls played their own games. Kingsley and the other boys wrestled in the shallows, and tried to cast tripping spells on the adults that wandered past, earning a clout over the head. The little girls watched and giggled at the antics. Although he never showed it, Kingsley watched out of the corner of his eye to see if she was laughing.

She always was.

She was the third, and youngest daughter of the village chief. She was born one full moon cycle later than Kingsley, at the beginning of the rainy season.

At first it was said that she was an unlucky child - her mother died within moments of meeting her newborn daughter; washed away on a tidal wave of her lifeblood pouring from the womb and into the dusky earth.

There were murmurs in the village that the baby was cursed. But nonetheless, the unfortunate infant needed milk. With one baby already at the breast, it was not too difficult for Kingsley's maama to suckle another.

As infants, the two babies were jostled together in the same cradle, and fed from the same milk. When Kingsley's younger sister Nabirye was born and the two toddlers were weaned, the girl returned to the home of her father. Kingsley's mother said that for months afterwards Kingsley was unsettled at night, reaching his fat infant hands out for another who was not there.

By the time she was five she was already a striking child. She was not beautiful, but there was something about her that caught the eye and held it; a certain restlessness of manner, and a brightness in her eyes that made her seem more alive than other people. She had her mother's wide features, and gleaming skin of proud mahogany. To Kingsley she was entirely beautiful.

She was the apple of her father's eye, and the darling of her two older sisters. There was no more talk about her being cursed, except among the elders. And even then only when they gossiped.

During the golden years of their childhood, she and Kingsley were one anothers constant companions. They made rag dolls together, played hide and seek amongst the colourful mud huts, and invented their own secret language, much to the exasperation of the adults responsible for them.

But by the time they were eight, the village children began to divide down gender lines: Early conditioning for the lives they would eventually lead. Kingsley and his friends wanted to play warriors and stage battles by the river; but she, Nabirye and the other little girls played with their rag dolls. She was now beneath Kingsley's attention; a mere girl.

Or so he pretended. It was the natural order of things, and for a few more years things proceeded in this acceptable manner.

When Kingsley was eleven, something strange happened to upset the natural order of things. An odd bird appeared in the village. It was duller and less colourful than the village birds, and made an odd tu-whit tu-woo noise. But it was obviously a postal bird. It was carrying a letter addressed to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

That letter changed everything.

Kingsley's mother broke down when she read the letter. Kingsley watched in alarm as his unflappable maama wept tears over the letter until she was at serious risk of smudging the emerald ink.

"Maama?" Kingsley asked worriedly.

The truth emerged. His father was not what he had previously believed. He had been an Anglo-African wizard who had visited the village many years previously, and married his mother. Kingsley already knew how his father had died in a harvesting accident. But he never realised his father came from another country.

"So I have to go to England?"

"Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the best schools of Magic in the world. Your papa must have paid for this before he died - the letter says you have been registered since you were born."

"Is England very far away maama? I don't want to leave you. Or Nabirye."

"I don't know. I've never been there. But I think it is far away. You must go son - this chance for you to live a better life may never come again. And this is what your papa wanted."

Kingsley took the plunge, and wrote back to Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore came to Uganda personally to collect him, and the African wizard began to learn, for the first time, about his English heritage.

When he returned to Uganda the summer after his first year, all the villagers gathered to meet him. They exclaimed over how much he had grown, and held an enormous gathering so he could tell them his stories. Wherever he looked, she was always there with her dark eyes shining. The young wizard flushed with pride and importance, and exaggerated his stories to see her face shine with admiration.

And so once again things began to proceed in an orderly fashion.

The summer of his fourth year, Kingsley began to look at her differently. She had grown only more striking as she aged, and she was beginning to look womanly. She was wearing the special necklace to announce that she had received her womanhood, and now spent all her time with the other girls of her age.

Now she was capable of motherhood, but not yet married. She existed in the in-between state of no-longer-child but not-yet-woman, when she would learn about womanhood, motherhood, and men from older women. All of the girls in her position were under constant surveillance to ensure they were not defiled before marriage - but not only by chaperones. The boys Kingsley had grown up with also hovered around the fringes of these protective groups, hoping to catch a glimpse or a smile from one of the forbidden, and therefore all the more desirable, young women.

Kingsley could not take his eyes away from her. It seemed that every time she smiled, her white teeth flashed beautifically in her dark face, and her brown eyes turned to liquid. Whenever she smiled at him, Kingsley felt his face flush and his legs turn to jelly. Was he imagining it, or did she smile for him more than any other? Kingsley eyed his friends speculatively, wanting desperately to warn them away from her.

When he returned to Hogwarts for his sixth year, Kingsley could think of nothing else. He found himself dreaming of her at night, and he was petrified he would return to find her married to one of his childhood friends. There was nobody he could confide in. His friends at Hogwarts would simply not understand. It was not their culture - it was not how they had been raised. Kingsley cursed himself for not having the bravery to speak to her father about his intentions before he left, and promised himself that if he returned to find her unwed, he would make her his wife. He dared not imagine she might belong to another.

Kingsley found a job working at the Hogs Head as a dishwasher over Christmas and Easter break. If he was to persuade her father to give his permission, he knew he would need all his savings to make a decent offering.

After what had felt like the longest year of his life, Kingsley returned to the village the summer before his seventh year. As the villagers gathered to greet their returning son, he scanned their faces swiftly. When he found her in the crowd he froze. Then she turned, and Kingsley felt the broadest smile spread itself across his face. She still wore the neckpiece of an unmarried woman. He still had a chance.

Kingsley barely paused to speak to his mother about his intentions. Within the hour he was striding towards her father's house. She was the youngest daughter of a chieftain, and infinitely precious. But Kingsley knew he had a lot to offer. With a Hogwarts education he could get a good job and earn a lot of money. She would be provided for.

Kingsley brought with him an opening gift of a whole herd of cows. It was extravagant - most young men only opened negotiations with half a dozen goats or so. But Kingsley could see nothing behind his eyes except her dark, flashing eyes, and he was determined to show her father how much he valued her. It did not matter what it cost him, she would be his.

It took all summer for the stubborn chieftain to agree, and many more gifts. Kingsley eked his savings out carefully to make sure they lasted. He knew that other men had requested her hand and been refused. Finally, just when Kingsley was beginning to despair, her father relented.

"You are a strange wizard, Kingsley Shacklebolt. You are younger than I had expected for my precious gem. But I will give my permission - on one condition only."

"What is it?" Kingsley had asked, his heart pounding.

"That my precious gem also wishes to be yours."

That had almost finished Kingsley. None of it mattered if she wouldn't agree. And perhaps she didn't. Perhaps she didn't remember how they had cooed together as infants, or how they had played together as children. Perhaps she hadn't really been smiling at him, and perhaps he had imagined the darkening flush of her cheeks when he smiled back.

His mother was summoned to the house. It should have been his father, but a mother would do in his absence. There always had to be at least two witnesses to any Promise. Then her father called her in from her duties. When she appeared in the doorway Kingsley felt his heart catch in his mouth. He hoped his desperate longing wasn't too apparent.

"Precious gem," her father began formally. "This man wishes to bethroth you. After much deliberation I have given my consent. But the choice of whether or not to accept is yours."

Her eyes danced mischeviously. Her father was being very formal, but the entire village had watched Kingsley's suit. She was very much aware of his attempts, and the lavish gifts he had presented her father with in his bid for her hand.

"The choice is mine father?" She asked directly.

"The choice is yours."

"Very well."

She turned to Kingsley consideringly, and he realised with shame that his hands were shaking.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, will you be a good husband?" She asked directly. "Will you be loving, faithful, and will you care for me and any children I might bear?"

The words were smooth and practiced, but her eyes were dancing with mirth. She knew this was coming!

"I will," Kingsley vowed fervently.

"Then yes, I accept."

In the years afterwards, Kingsley was a little embarrassed about the whoop of joy he let out. It was not an exaggeration to say that tears pricked at his eyes. This girl, this woman, this wonderful, clever, perfect creature was going to be his wife. Her father nodded his approval, and Kingsley's maama beamed with pride.

They exchanged letters all the way through Kingsley's last year at Hogwarts, making plans for their future together. They were married directly upon his return, in an exquisite ceremony that the entire village witnessed. The guests were enthusiastic and approving of the match. Clearly it had been intended since their birth.

All that remained was for Kingsley to find a good job in the local town, and then they could settle down in the village and begin the process of making babies.

Unfortunately, Kingsley's wife had other ideas.

She was a sparky, independent woman, not as easily subject to the whims of her father as the man liked to believe. Shortly after their marriage, the pair created a scandal when they announced they were leaving for England, where Kingsley was taking up a job with the aurors.

The village erupted into uproar. Everyone had an opinion. Most were horrified that Kingsley was taking their precious gem away from them, to a strange land where they might never return. Who knew what might happen amongst the savage white men?

In the midst of this chaos, Kingsley and his bride quietly packed their bags and departed, wishing Kingsley's maama a fond goodbye first. They decided that they would wait until her father had cooled off a bit before returning.

Kingsley's wife was thrilled with England. They settled in a small magical village, and she quickly made friends with the local witches. Although they considered her customs strange at first, she was both friendly and kind. It was hard not to warm to her. They were welcoming, and she swiftly forged her own life.

When she gave birth to a robust, ebony-skinned son within a year of their marriage, their life was completed. Kingsley was overjoyed with his beautiful wife and his tiny son, and often wondered if life could really get much better.

But there was a flip side to his joy, and it was patterned with doubts and fear.

England was at war. It was why Kingsley had joined the Aurors in the first place. The threat of Voldemort was growing, and more deaths were reported every day. Kingsley began to receive more and more dangerous assignments. As his son grew bigger and stronger, he had to spend long periods away from home, chasing the deatheaters.

His wife took this stoically. She had always been a strong woman, but motherhood had also given her enduring patience. She never reproached him for his absences, but loved him twice as fervently when he was with her. He would return, fresh from the horrors he had witnessed, she would simply hold him tightly and make him promise to remain safe.

When his wife gave birth to a second child, this time a daughter, they named the baby girl after her long-deceased grandmother on her mothers side. They visited the Namiya village and made their peace with their families, reassuring them about the life they had chosen. Before they left, she was reconciled with her father. It was with no small about of regret that they returned to England.

It happened when Kingsley was away from home, trying to trace down three specific deatheaters who had been presenting a massive threat to the Ministry of Magic.

Kingsley knew that he had slowly been appearing on the Dark Lords radar as a threat. Although he was only a junior Auror, working alongside Alastor Moody was making Kingsley dangerous. He was getting ever closer to joining the ranks of the legendary aurors like Frank Longbottom.

Kingsley feared for his own life occasionally, but never in his wildest imaginings did he consider that the deatheaters might attack his family.

When Ugandans married, they married for life. It was an eternal commitment that could not ever be altered. If a Ugandon died, their widow or widower would never remarry, but would live out the rest of their lives alone in eternal mourning. In this way they were similar to swans.

To cement this bond, rings were exchanged in manner similar to muggle ceremonies. But the rings were forged with Ugandan gold, enchanted to burn their way down to the bone - and they were fused to that persons very soul. They were impossible to remove through any magic or physical means, and they had a strong connection with their counterpart. The only way a Ugandan wedding ring would ever come loose would be if its counterpart died.

Kingsley was exploring an abandoned building when he felt pain explode in his left hand.

He sank to his knees, watching with horror as the metal of his wedding ring glowed with shocking fire. Then his head snapped back, and he screamed and writhed as he felt flaming tendrils drilling into his soul, pulling this way and that, wrenching backwards and forwards until they ripped themselves loose. The ring blazed with light as the heat reached an unbearable feverish pitch, before finally falling still and cool.

Kingsley slowly reached out and tugged the ring from his finger. It slid easily. His whole hand was covered in deep, blistering burns.

That only meant one thing. The soul of the rings' counterpart was no longer on this earth.

Kingsley didn't allow himself a moment to consider what this meant. He apparated to his home, splinching his little toe in his hurry but barely noticing the pain.

Kingsley arrived in the middle of a crowd of villagers, all of whom were gazing in horror at something in front of them. He didn't want to look, but he had to see the truth. The skull and the snake had visited. There, above his precious home was the vile, glowing sickly green of the dark mark.

The door hung loosely off its hinges.

Kingsley walked as though in a dream, past the villagers who parted silently before him. He hesitated slightly on the doorstep, before entering the house. He walked through room after room, praying to the gods that he would find his family safe and well. Desperately ignoring what his ring already told him.

As soon as he entered the dining room he found his family.

They had been having dinner. His wife was an excellent cook. She was slumped across the table in front of him, her face turned towards him. Her eyes were open, but they were glassy and blank. Their liquid molten intensity was gone. A puddle of blood pooled beneath her.

Kingsley still felt as though he was dreaming; his mind unable to process what he was seeing. He looked past his wife. His son was almost too big for his high chair now. They had been talking about getting him a booster seat instead. The toddler was face down in his dinner, his dark springy hair caught up in a mess of vegetables. Kingsley couldn't see his face, but there was no breath in the little body.

Kingsley looked around the room, searching desperately for what he knew he was going to find next. Desperately hoping she might have been spared. But she hadn't.

His baby daughter had been taking a nap. His wife liked to settle her down on a sheepskin rug rather than taking her upstairs to her crib. They had argued over this minor disagreement, his wife wanting to do things the traditional Ugandan way. Would she have survived if she had been upstairs?

His baby daughter was waxy in death. Her eyes were closed, and the thin dark layer of hair on her head was matted with blood. The deatheater that killed her had left a long, shimmering knife through her chest. It was hard to see the blood against her dark skin, except for where it bloomed crimson across her white cloth nappy.

What kind of monsters kill children?

Kingsley moved silently across the room, barely breathing. He did not scream or cry. Indeed he felt as though he might never make a sound again.

Although he hated to disturb her, he gently slid the vicious knife from his daughters empty chest, and placed it on the carpet. He lifted the cooling body of his baby girl into his arms, and carried her over to the table where his family was waiting. Then Kingsley pulled out a chair and sat down, cradling his daughter in one arm. He reached out and took his sons cold hand, and gazed at his lovely, motionless wife.

Kingsley sat quietly among the dead for a long time. Eventually until the aurors arrived, and gently took him away.

Kingsley never spoke their names again. He made a brief trip to the village to inform her family, and then left almost instantly, ignoring his maamas pleas for him to stay. There was nothing there for him.

Kingsley operated in an advanced state of shock for a long time. It was six months before he could cry. A year before he could even think their names in the privacy of his own mind.

By the time Voldemort was defeated, Kingsley simply didn't care anymore. He did his job well, calmly and efficiently. He took on everything he was assigned to do, went above and beyond the expectations of his superiors, and worked from dawn to dusk. He never knew the name of the deatheater that had taken his family from him, and so he treated every deatheater he met as though they had been the one.

When Kingsley heard that Voldemort had been vanquished he seriously considered ending his own life. There was nothing left in his future. Ugandans married for life - he would never meet another woman, never have another child, never feel the warmth of a family again. All he wanted was to join his beloved wife and children.

It was while Kingsley was engulfed in this turmoil that he was assigned the job of stripping the house of Sirius Black. He was working with Alastor Moody, which pleased him. Alastor had been the first auror on the scene when his family died. A few months later when Kingsley was coping badly, Alastor had shown up on his doorstep with a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. That night Kingsley finally managed to cry.

Although they never became close, Kingsley never forget that simple kindness, nor that evening. It was always an honour to work with Alastor Moody.

The stripping of the house was standard. Routine. But then everything went to hell in a handbasket when Hagrid arrived. And he brought with him a baby: Infant Harry Potter, orphaned at the age of one. Black hair and a nasty bleeding gash across his forehead, but miraculously sleeping soundly in the arms of the giant.

This was bad enough: It brought back painful memories that Kingsley had long tried to suppress. But then Alastor had come up with his frankly insane plan, and suddenly Kingsley found himself hurtling along a ride that he had never, ever seen coming.

From the day baby Harry had been placed in his arms, Kingsley Shacklebolt had something he had been missing for a very long time. He had hope. He had love. And he had a family again.

And nothing in the world was going to take that away from him.

\\\/

Kingsley stared out across the ocean again, his mind a million miles away. Were they out there somewhere? His wife and children? It seemed impossible that such vital, intensely alive people could just disapppear out of existence like they had never been. Surely they were out there somewhere, still laughing and breathing, still living with beautiful, strong, beating hearts.

Kingsley clasped his hands together, the pebble trapped between them, and held them against his heart. Sometimes he felt the shadow of his wife's presence fall over him like a waterfall, and he was so certain she was beside him that he almost reached out a hand to touch her. He could almost smell the cinnamon scent of her skin, hear the gurgle of his baby daughter or the giggle of his little son.

There was never anybody there when he turned around. But he knew they were out there, watching over him. One day they would be together again.

Kingsley knew what his wife would say about Harry. When you have known someone for that many years, you begin to predict their responses. It had been common for Kingsley and his wife to finish one anothers sentences during their short marriage. Yes, he could imagine every single word she would have to say about his second son, and he knew perfectly well that she would have a lot to say about this Voldemort business.

Kingsley grinned wryly, imagining the dressing down she would give to Alastor Moody. The older auror would have deserved every word.

He tossed the pebble into the white sand, and turned to walk back to the house. The bent shape of Nicholas Flamel was no longer pottering around in his next-door garden, but Kingsley could see the elderly face of Perenelle through their front window, where she was sitting in an armchair knitting. He waved a hand, and she waved back with a smile.

"Life," Kingsley muttered to himself as he returned to the cottage. "Some have far too much, and some have almost none at all."

\\\/

"You must be crazy Alastor!"

"Maybe I am Lupin," Alastor growled, banging a fist on the table. "But do you have any better ideas?"

Remus fell silent, sitting back in his chair. Even Sirius looked unusually serious, and Kingsley himself couldn't think of another solution that could possibly work. Outside the light was beginning to fade across the beach, casting long shadows and turning the ocean inky black. Spread across the dining room table were several sheets of parchment containing an amalgation of all their ideas. But if they weren't in perfect agreement with their plan they couldn't proceed.

Tonks was sitting at the far end of the table demolishing a sandwich. She looked up at Alastor's words.

"But what you're proposing Alastor," she said hesitantly. "If even one aspect of this fails...if our information is wrong..."

"You saw the pensieve," Alastor barked impatiently. "There are only three of them! If there were more deatheaters involved we would have seen them in the memory - they would have at least been mentioned."

"I don't know," Sirius said, scratching his head worriedly. "Us against three is fine, but what if we were wrong? You know the consequences if we muck this up."

"We die," Remus finished. "And Harry loses all of us. No wonder he was so upset with you this morning. I can't believe you're jumping into this without a second thought. Where's all the constant viligance we're used to hearing about? All the caution?"

Alastor rose to his feet snarling, and began pacing the room. Every time he took a step his wooden leg clacked against the floor, and his magical eye was spinning wildly out of control.

"Listen!" Alastor growled. "We don't have another bloody choice. Hear me out!"

"We're listening," Kingsley said calmly, smoothing down the paper in front of him and brushing some crumbs onto the floor from their late lunch.

"Hmmph. Well. Right now all we know is that Voldemort somehow got himself a new body, and a couple of followers. But his body is weak, and there's only two deatheaters on the scene right now. So let's think this through. Why hasn't he called up the old crowd? Got Lucius Malfoy on the job hm?"

The other three men looked at each other for moment. Kingsley had been an auror long enough to understand where Alastor was taking this theory, but wanted to see if Sirius and Remus could pick up on it. Tonks began to nod slowly. After a moment it was Sirius who spoke.

"He's weak," Sirius said, scratching his head. "He's weak and he doesn't want the deatheaters to see him like that?"

"Bingo," Alastor said, smiling. It was terrifying, and Sirius flinched. "Carry that thought! Don't stop there. What can we conclude from that? Is Voldemort going to sit in Crouch's basement forever?"

"He's finding a way to make himself stronger," Remus said with sudden realisation. "And for all we know he might be ready to do that at anytime. Then we have a fully resurrected Voldemort on our hands, plus deatheaters."

"Yes!" Alastor said, his smile slightly feral. "And that is why we have to go tonight. By some miracle, Potter had this vision. We'll figure out why it happened later. Right now we gave been given some precious information just in time, and we need to use it. If we don't, we know what we'll be facing."

"I still don't like it," Sirius muttered, pushing back his long hair with one hand. "How do we know he's going to do anything yet?"

"You've forgotten what he said Sirius," Kingsley interrupted before Alastor could reach boiling point. "When the Daily Prophet published the news of Crouch disappearing, Voldemort ordered Crouch Junior to kill him. Then he said that the plan was ready. Do you really want to stick around and find out what that plan is?"

"So you agree with Alastor?" Sirius said, looking betrayed.

"I believe we have to do something," Kingsley corrected. "Something right away, or things will get far worse. Do you want Harry to live like that?"

"But we don't know how to kill Voldemort," Remus countered. "We don't even know why he survived in the first place."

"No," Kingsley agreed. "But we do the damn best we can to send him to hell where he belongs. At the very least we can kill Crouch Junior and Nott."

"Well said Shacklebolt," Alastor growled approvingly, sitting back down at the table. "Everyone clear on the importance of immediate now?"

"Clear," Sirius mumbled. Remus nodded simply, and pulled a sheet of parchment towards him.

"Clear. Now explain to me again how you propose we get into the Manor?"

"Ahem," Tonks said, looking up with a smirk.

She screwed up her face for a moment, frowning in concentration. Long platinum locks suddenly sprouted from her head, and her features became more angular and masculine. Tonks opened her eyes, and Sirius and Remus recoiled as Lucius Malfoy was suddenly grinning at them across the table. Malfoy-Tonks winked saucily at the group of men.

"I believe I can help with that. Now unless you want me to dress up as Lucius Malfoy in witches clothes...whose pants am I wearing tonight?"

\\\/

Thanks for reading.

Cas


	39. Chapter 39

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Twenty One**

That morning, Ron and Stefan questioned Harry in low voices about his disappearance in the night. Looking to the right and the left, Harry shook his head. There were too many students around, and he wouldn't say anything that he could risk being heard. Although Stefan and Ron were obviously burning with curiosity, they trusted Harry and held their silence.

At lunchtime all eight of them wandered out to the grounds under the breathtakingly blue summer sky. Hermione began to speak but Harry shushed her, gesturing at a group of first year's nearby. Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded.

"Remus wanted to know why you weren't at training," Ron said as soon as they were out of earshot of the first years.

"What did you tell him?" Harry asked as they headed for the lake.

"Nothing," Stefan said with a frown. "We woke up and you were gone. We were very afraid for you, and if you hadn't returned at breakfast we would have gone to Remus again and insisted that he contact Kingsley."

"Where were you?" Hermione burst out, as they threw themselves down on the warm green grass by the lake edge.

Harry hesitated. Although he trusted every one of his friends it was a big secret to share, and it could be fatal if it fell into the wrong hands.

"Harry's not sure whether or not to tell us," Luna said in a sing song voice to the others. "Maybe he isn't sure if we would tell anyone else."

Harry shrugged helplessly. Luna had an alarming habit of being vague and mystical for ninety percent of the time, and then dead on the money for the other ten percent. Just when Harry was overlooking the little first year, she came out with something frighteningly perceptive.

"That isn't true is it?" Neville said, sitting up. "Harry knows he can trust us with anything."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Harry said, slightly embarrassed. "It's just…"

"This is big, isn't it?" Ginny said, stretching her legs out and slipping off her shoes. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

"Yes," Harry said with a sigh. "It's big. Life or death big."

"Where did you go Harry?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

Harry looked out across the lake and took a moment to gather his thoughts. Hiding things from his friends was doing them disservice. Each and every one of them had put their faith in him on more than one occasion, and this wouldn't be the first secret all eight of them had to keep. As though she knew what Harry was thinking, Daphne shook the sleeve of her robe back. Cyrene the basilisk was wrapped around her pale wrist, eyes closed as he slumbered in the heat.

"I'm not telling anyone anything," Daphne shrugged. "You know secrets about me that could land me in Azkaban if you told."

"We're all in this together mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't offend us by suggesting we can't keep a secret."

"Alright alright," Harry raised his hands helplessly, and smiled. "You're all trustworthy!" Then Harry became more sombre. "To tell you the truth, I went to Storm Cottage this morning. I needed to speak to Kingsley. You see, I had a dream…"

Harry described exactly what he had seen. It was not enjoyable to relieve the experience again, but Harry strove to tell his friends every detail and miss out nothing. He explained who Bartemius Crouch Junior was, told how the Minister of Magic had been murdered, and described how Theodore's father had been there to help. All through the narrative was the disturbing, oppressive presence of voldemort.

Harry was uncomfortable with admitting that he had witnessed events from _inside_ Voldemort's head. Instead he made it sound as though he had been an invisible bystander, watching from the sidelines. Hermione let out a little shriek when Harry told how Barty Crouch had murdered his father in cold blood, and Daphne hissed viciously when Harry talked about Nagini.

Eventually Harry ran out of words. "So I woke up, and flooeed home," he finished lamely. "I knew it was real, not just a dream, and I had to tell Kingsley and Mad-Eye as soon as possible."

"My goodness," Hermione said weakly, shaking her head.

"What is _with_ all these dead Minister's of Magic?" Ron demanded. "First Fudge, now Crouch!"

"Maybe the position is cursed," Luna suggested serenely, weaving together several daisies into a crown. She finished it with a few dandelions, and passed it over to Ron. The redhead looked slightly bewildered as Luna indicated he should place it upon his head, but complied.

"To ward off spattergroit," Luna told him seriously. "You look like you're at risk."

"Er…"

" _Anyway_ " Ginny cut in, ignoring Luna. "What are they going to do about it? Tell the aurors?"

"They _are_ the aurors," Harry smiled grimly. "And they know it'll do no good. Mad-Eye could order all the aurors to attack Crouch Manor tonight if he wanted, but before they'd even left the Ministry, Edmund Nott would find out and they'd have Voldemort moved instantly. Then we might never find them, and Mad-Eye would be discredited."

"So what are they going to do?" Hermione asked again.

Harry looked around his friends and shrugged. "They're going to attack Voldemort on their own," he said, trying to sound blasé. He failed miserably.

"They're _what?_ " Hermione had gone white.

Harry's voice was growing hoarse as he explained why there was no other choice. Lunchtime was almost over become he finished talking, and he watched as his friends went through a full range of emotions: disbelief, horror, shock, and finally, understanding.

"Well it sounds like they have most of the main risks properly assessed," Hermione said, when Harry had finally finished talking. Then she looked around at the faces of the others. "Well they do, don't they? It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Well, yes," Neville answered slowly. "It's just that it's...it's _you-know-who."_

"I know," Harry said dully. "I just wish they'd let me go with them."

"You're lucky not to be going," Daphne said dryly. "Believe me, I've heard enough from my father about how things were the first time around."

Harry thought it would be impolite to mention that he had also heard about the exploits of Daphne's father in the first Wizarding War against Voldemort. Mr Greengrass had never been a member of the inner circle of Death Eaters, but he had been well known for his vicious actions at the command of Voldemort. Harry had learntmdurijng his childhood lessons about the man who specialised in torture and rape, and he had also, of course, seen first hand the scars where the man had taken out his lust for violence on his own daughter.

"Yes well, maybe," Harry said. He didn't want to go down that train of thought again, and risk Daphne's wrath. The subject was virtually unmentionable, but Harry reasoned he had until the summer to worry about a solution. And a solution he _would_ find. Daphne was not going back to that man.

"We'd better get to class," Neville said, standing up and stretching out. They had been sitting still for a long time. "I don't know about you Slytherins, but Snape won't take any excuses if _I'm_ late."

Harry chuckled ruefully. In spite of his own shaky alliance with Snape, Harry knew better than to expect any leniency on the part of the potions master.

But when Harry, Ron, Stefan and Neville made it down to the potions classroom they were bewildered to find that Snape was not even in the classroom. Instead, Professor Dumbledore seemed to be taking the class. The elderly headmaster was wearing unusually sombre robes of navy blue, but his eyes were twinkling behind his spectacles. He was scratching some instructions on the blackboard when they arrived but turned to smile at the class.

"Come in, come in," Dumbledore said with a sweep of his arm. "Please take your usual seats. I'm afraid Professor Snape has been taken unwell today, but don't fear - you'll have your potions master back soon enough. Now today we are going to be learning -"

"Where is he?" Harry asked, his heart pounding. He had a bad feeling about the missing Professor, on _this_ day of all days.

"I told you Mr Potter, Professor Snape has been taken unwell," Dumbledore said sternly. "Now as I was saying, Professor Snape has left instructions that today you will be brewing Sensate Solution, a potion to increase the senses of the user. This potion requires…"

Harry let his mind drift, as he tried to work out the implications of Professor Snape's absence. He _could_ just be unwell, couldn't he? But the man had been a Death Eater spy during the first war, and it seemed an awfully big coincidence that he should disappear on the day that Voldemort had mentioned putting plans into action. If only there was a way to check for sure that he was still at Hogwarts…

Harry stuck his hand up and waved it, interrupting Professor Dumbledore's instructions.

"Yes Mr Potter?"

"Professor I'm afraid I don't feel well, I've been feeling ill all day. I think I need to go to the infirmary."

Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows met in the middle. "Indeed Mr Potter? Unwell? Why ever did you not venture to find Madam Pomfrey during lunch?"

"I...I thought I could cope then. But I feel much worse now. Please sir, I really think I need to go."

"Harry did look terrible at lunch time," Stefan interjected suddenly, looking up at the headmaster through innocent eyes. "Very pale, and said he felt ill. Please allow me to assist him to the hospital wing Professor."

Professor Dumbledore gave Stefan a long sweeping look. Harry wasn't concerned however, as he knew perfectly well that Stefan's grasp of occlumency probably rivalled his own. The werewolf boy had more than enough secrets of his own that he needed to keep. Dumbledore eventually turned back to Harry and nodded, although he still looked disbelieving. Harry knew the headmaster didn't believe his tale for a moment, but that didn't matter. He just had to get _out._

"Very well Mr Potter. Do you feel you can make it to the infirmary on your own?"

"Yes Professor," Harry said, ignoring Stefan's poke in his side. "Thank you."

Once outside the potions classroom, Harry walked quickly up the staircase and followed the dungeons out into the Great Hall. He needed the Marauders Map, but he had no idea where Fred or George could be at this moment. There was no point trying to get into the Gryffindor tower either - no doubt the twins kept the map on themselves at all times to ensure it was never stolen. Harry's forehead creased as he wondered where to start. He didn't want to go barging into every class.

"Potter? What are you doing out of class?"

Harry spun around with surprise, only to find himself face to face with the wrong Weasley. Ron's older brother Percy was bearing down on him with his lips pursed with disapproval. At that moment Harry felt rather like a field mouse that had been cornered by hawk. Percy had that effect on troublemakers.

"Err…"

"You're not skipping class are you?" Percy said, puffing his chest out. "Because as a prefect it is my duty to-"

"No, no I'm not skipping class," Harry hurriedly interrupted. "I was just with Professor Dumbledore, and he asked me to fetch Fred and George for him. Erm, something about the potions they made for him having unusual side effects that he needs to know how to counter."

The ploy worked. Percy's face went purple, and suffused with irritation. "Those two! Utterly irresponsible, no doubt pulling some kind of ridiculous prank. Was it dangerous, do you know, Potter?"

"I'm not sure," Harry said carefully. "Just that Dumbledore needed them right away."

"Professor Dumbledore," Percy corrected automatically. "I see, very well. No doubt they're been up to some nonsense as usual, and I'll be sure to deal with that later. Very well Potter, off you go."

Harry shifted. "Actually I'm not sure what class they're in," he said apologetically. "Professor Dumbledore forgot to tell me."

Percy looked slightly suspicious. "Transfiguration with McGonagall I believe," the redhead said after a moment. "Please tell them from me that I will be speaking to them later about this very serious matter. Tampering with potions is not a joke."

"I'll tell them," Harry promised, grimacing at the thought of interrupting the Transfiguration lesson. "Thanks Percy."

"Good day Potter," Percy said officiously, departing with a swirl of his robes.

Harry was slightly amazed at his own good luck, but immediately took the stairs to Transfiguration. He paused outside the door wishing it had been any other lesson, or any other teacher. Then he sucked in a breath and knocked sharply three times.

"Enter."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows raised sharply when she saw Harry standing in the doorway. "Yes Mr Potter? What can I do for you?"

Gathering his confidence around him like a warm cloak, Harry tried to sound like he knew exactly what he was talking about. "I've come to fetch Fred and George. Professor Dumbledore needs them to reverse the effects of a potion they made earlier. Apparently it has begun behaving...unconventionally."

Two red heads whipped around to stare at Harry, frowning in puzzlement. The rest of the class was also staring curiously, and Harry fought down the uncomfortable feeling.

Now the eyebrows rose so high they threatened to disappear into Professor McGonagall's hairline. "I see," she said, not really sounding as though she did. "And this matter is so urgent it can not be left until class finishes?"

"I'm afraid not," Harry said firmly. For a long moment Professor McGonagall said nothing, and Harry was convinced that she could see straight through him to his lies. He managed to stop himself from shuffling his feet, and avoided eye contact with the Weasley twins. He hoped they had gotten into enough mischief to recognise what he was up to, even if they didn't know why.

Harry's prayers were answered.

"Oh _that_ potion," Fred said, rolling his eyes theatrically. "He didn't try and open the tube did he?"

"I believe that is how potions are generally marked Mr Weasley," McGonagall said sharply.

"Oh dear," George winced. "We really ought to go at once."

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said, breathing hard. Her nostrils were flaring alarmingly. "Go now, but do _not_ expect this matter to go uninvestigated. I will be speaking to Professor Dumbledore later to determine _exactly_ what you have done, and administer the appropriate punishment."

"Yes Professor," Fred and George said in unison, rising from their seats and gathering their things away. Fred winked at Harry, and then both twins made their way to the door. As it swing closed behind them George made to speak, but Harry glared at him to keep him quiet. He doubted McGonagall had stopped listening.

"You really better be able to fix the potion," he said loudly as they headed down the corridor, both twins following Harry curiously.

It was only when they found a dusty empty classroom filled with desks on the second floor that Harry felt safe to pause. He dropped his bags, and all pretence.

"All right we haven't got much time," he hissed quietly.

Fred and George's faces lit up. "Is it a prank? Is that why you fetched us?" George asked excitedly.

"Do you need our expertise?" Fred followed up, eyeing Harry curiously. "McGonagall is going to slaughter you when she finds out that was a lie by the way. Whatever this is about, it must be worth it."

"Unless Dumbledore really wants us," George frowned. "After all, we did do that thing with the…"

"Nobody knows that was us though," Fred reminded his twin.

"Enough," Harry said quickly. "I need the map. It's really urgent. I'm sorry if you get into trouble, but I absolutely have to know if someone is at Hogwarts right at this very minute.

Fred and George looked at each other in surprise. "You pulled us out of class for _that?_ " Fred said, looking perturbed. "Couldn't you have waited? You're not the only one who's going to get in trouble for this, you know."

"It can't wait," Harry said impatiently. "This is serious, I'm not just joking around. It's really urgent."

Fred and George exchanged loaded glances, and then George spoke again. "Alright," he shrugged. But you have to tell us who you're looking for, and why."

Harry thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright. Now _please?_ "

Without further ado, Fred pulled the map from inside his robe with a flourish. He laid it down on the table and smoothed it out gently, easing the creases out until it lay flat, staring expectantly up at them. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Fred incanted, caressing the map reverently as though saying a prayer. Harry watched as thin lines and trickles of ink spread out across the parchment, swirled,nd formed the shape of the Hogwarts castle. Then the little dots appeared, and began to move eagerly around like scurrying ants.

"Okay," Fred clapped his hands. "Who is it?"

Harry's lips curved. "Snape."

"Really?" George just sounded bewildered. "Not a sexy seventh year? Not trying to catch Professor Sinistra up the astrology tower alone? Or trying to find Malfoy unawares?"

"No," Harry said, gritting his teeth. "I need to find Snape. Dumbledore says he's ill, but I don't believe it."

"And _that_ couldn't wait until after class?"

"No," Harry said shortly, scanning the map closely. Where were Snape's private quarters again?

"There he is," George said, sounding irritated. "Right there, in his study."

Harry stared at the map in disbelief. He had been so certain that Snape wouldn't be there. Terrified that Voldemort had been calling the death eaters back to his side, and that his mentors would be walking into a trap. But it was unmistakeable. The tiny dot labeled _Severus Snape_ was in his study, pacing the floor.

"Oh thank goodness," Harry said weakly, closing his eyes.

"Hang on," Fred said sharply. "He's -"

Harry opened his eyes with a snap. Just in time to see the little dot that represented his potions master step inside the fireplace in the map and disappear. The dot was there one second, and then vanished the next it happened that quickly. Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes, certain he had missed something.

"He flooeed?" Harry said to confirm.

"Must have done," Fred said, frowning in concentration. "Let's find him again. Hospital wing maybe?"

"No, look," George pointed. "He's in Dumbledore's office."

"Where's Dumbledore?"

"Teaching potions," Harry said grimly.

The dot labeled Professor Snape paced up and down Dumbledore's office for a few minutes, as Harry stared at it. He wished he could see right through the map - right through the walls - into Snape's mind - to know what was going on. His heart clenched with worry. His mentors were staking their lives on a plan far too risky for his liking.

"He's not doing anything," George said after a few more moments. "He's just standing by the desk now. Are you sure you don't want to look for some sexy seventh years?"

"No." Harry gritted his teeth. "Look, can I borrow this? Just for tonight?"

Fred and George exchanged a loaded glance. Harry envied their easy ability to exchange thoughts without even having to speak.

"You tell us what's going on first," Fred said after a moment. His hand rested on the map possessively.

Harry didn't want to tell anyone else such damaging secrets, but he couldn't see any way around it. He knew that Fred and George were trustworthy, and he was almost certain that they wouldn't tell anybody else what he was about to speak of, but it still made him nervous to vocalise such important secrets. Five lives hung in the balance, and if anything went wrong because Harry spoke out of turn he would never forgive himself. But then again, using Snape as a death-eater-o-meter could be the only chance to find out if Voldemort was calling the Death eaters to his side.

Harry summarised things quickly. As he spoke he watched as Fred and George's faces turned absolutely white. Even their freckles paled, and Fred shook his head a few times very quickly as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"...So I need to know if Snape leaves the castle, because if he does then I have to be able to warn Kingsley and the others that Voldemort is calling the Death Eaters, and they'd be walking into an ambush!"

"Merlin Harry," Fred said hoarsely. "Your family don't do things by halves."

"Neither do yours," Harry countered weakly. George gave a shaky laugh.

"He's got a point. Absolutely bonkers though, that Mad-Eye. Total nutter."

"Watch it," Harry said fiercely. "That's my family, remember?"

"Sorry," George said, shaking his head. "But _seriously._ They're going for _you-know-who?_ "

"That sounds like a prank worthy of the Marauders," Fred said admiringly.

"Well two of them _are_ going," Harry pointed out, grinning in spite of himself. He looked at the map again, and sighed. "He's still there. Can I take this?"

"Yes of course." Both twins nodded, and passed him the map. In spite of their natural jocular nature Harry knew both boys understood the seriousness of the situation and wouldn't hesitate to help if he had genuine need. He smiled at them and thanked them with relief.

"No problem Harry. Just have a think about what you're going to tell Dumbledore and McGonagall when they come after you later…"

Harry winced, and decided there and then to try and avoid both professors if he could possibly avoid it.

"I'll think of something. Thanks."

\\\/

"He's still in there with Dumbledore," Hermione reported efficiently, leaning over the chair arm to check the map. "They're still sitting at the desk."

"They've been there for hours," Ron groaned, stretching his legs out towards the fire. The Ravenclaw common room was deserted for the night, and the eight were spread out in front of the fire.

"They've only been there for half an hour," Harry said, checking his watch. "All the same I don't like it. If we could trust that Dumbledore wouldn't do anything to stop Kingsley and the others then I'd go and demand to know if he knew anything."

"You know you can't do that," Daphne said sharply.

Harry started at a sudden hiss that followed her words. Cyrene's head had jolted up at the sound of his mistress's voice, and he was looking around blindly. The basilisk had been dozing by the fire with Sanna, and he hissed crossly at Daphne again for disturbing him. Daphne scooped up her snake and petted him, hissing soothing words as he undulated across her hands.

"I know," Harry said after a moment. He unfolded the parchment that had arrived at dinnertime, and smoothed it out. "Mad-Eye says not to tell Dumbledore under any circumstances unless they haven't been in contact by tomorrow morning. In that case, tell Dumbledore to send in the rest of the aurors."

Harry shivered in spite of the warm fire. He hated that contingency plan because he knew full well that the only circumstances under which Mad-Eye would call in the other aurors would be in the event of his own death, when secrecy became irrelevant.

"It's nearly curfew," Ginny yawned, stretching like a cat. "Can we go to bed yet?"

"We can't be late back to Slytherin," Ron agreed. "Snape will have our heads."

"In case you've forgotten, it's Snape we're watching," Stefan said his dark eyes glinting with humour. "We'll see him coming."

Harry sighed and stood up, stretching to work out the kinks in his neck. They had been keeping civil for hours bent over the map, and it had come to naught. But Harry felt better knowing what he did - that Voldemort hadn't summoned his army just yet.

Then suddenly, shockingly, without warning or explanation Harry's scar seared with agonising pain.

"Wait!" Hermione gasped suddenly, sounding like she was choking. "He's gone! Snape's gone!"

" _What?_ "

Harry choked and folded over, bent double and clutched his hands to his forehead, sinking to his knees, barely aware of where he was. It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were on fire; his head was surely splitting along his scar; his eyes were rolling madly in his head; he wanted it to end...to black out...to die...

And then it was gone. Harry was hanging limply in someone's arms, looking up at the pale blue Ravenclaw common room ceiling through a kind of mist. The room was silent.

"Are you alright?"

The voice was shaky, and close by. Harry turned his head to see that Stefan had stopped him from hitting the floor, and he disentangled himself weakly from the other boys arms.

"I'm okay," Harry said hoarsely, pushing himself upright.

"Was it your scar?" Daphne asked sharply.

Harry nodded. "Something happened. He was...he was doing something. Where's the map?"

Eight of them were suddenly pushing, trying to get close enough to the map to see what had happened. Shoulders and hands were everywhere, and Harry craned his neck until he could see his worst fear. The little dot labeled Severus Snape has vanished.

"Just disappeared," Hermione began babbling frantically. "He was there, he was there but he didn't go anywhere near the fireplace. He must have disapparated, only you _can't_ disapparate within the Hogwarts grounds, And why didn't Dumbledore stop him anyway?!"

"That's it," Harry said, cutting across Hermione's babble. "I knew it. I knew it wouldn't be safe for them. That's it."

"What are you going to do?" Ginny asked looking terrified.

"Do?" Harry said, smirking grimly. Now his worst fears had come true he suddenly felt very light and reckless. "Do? Why I'm going after them and I'm going to kill that miserable bastard myself."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "You can't!"

"Can't I?"

"You'll die!"

"I'm dead without them, Hermione. If they die then I might as well because I sure won't be able to stand against him without them. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to leave _now."_

"i am coming, " Stefan said instantly, standing up.

"So I am," Neville said bravely.

"And me," Ron agreed.

"This is madness!" Hermione said, her voice rising. "You can't! Think about the danger you're walking into."

"I _am_ thinking about it Hermione," Harry said, his voice almost breaking on the last word. "I'm thinking about the danger my _family,_ my _second chance_ at a family are in right this moment. If I don't go then they could die out there. And if I'm going to die then I want to die by their sides, rather than sit at home like a coward. But nobody else needs to come. I won't be responsible for anyone else going to their death"

"I don't care whether _you're_ going or not, Potter," Daphne said abruptly. "I'm going anyway. M _y_ father was a rather unimportant death eater the first time around, but he was marked. If they're all there then he will be too, and I might never get a chance this good."

"A chance to do what?" Stefan asked softly, tilting his head to one side.

Daphne smiled, but it was cold and brittle like granite. "A chance to commit murder."

"No!" Ginny cried, but Harry spoke over her. He was feeling desperate at the sensation of time slipping through his fingers.

"I'm leaving now," he said hastily. "Right now. Ginny and Luna no way, you're first years and don't even think about it. Stay here, and if we're not back by morning you need to alert Dumbledore. Anyone else, I can't override you if you choose to come along."

Instantly every second year in the room stood up, although Hermione was a little later than the others. "Harry, the danger," she said, her face pale and drawn.

"You don't have to come," Neville said gently.

"No," Hermione said, tilting her chin and taking a deep breath. "I do. We're in this together."

Harry nodded and looked at his seven friends, for a moment feeling a choking emotion rise up inside him. Ginny and Luna were sitting side by side on the blue sofa, holding hands, but looking resolute. Neville was talking to them both in a low voice.

"...call an elf, just ask out loud for Gippy. He's been here since my Gran's time. Ask him for some hot chocolate, something to eat, and make sure you keep warm. Sleep in shifts if you need to, and we'll send you a message as soon as we're safe."

"How are we going to get there?" Hermione asked, her tone more business-like now matters had been settled.

Harry laughed, the peculiar feeling of giddiness still upon him. "The same way we travelled last year when we broke a convicted mass murderer out of the highest security prison in the world."

"Business as usual then," Neville sighed.

\\\/

 **Next chapter is written, just requires a little polishing. Will be up soon.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	40. Chapter 40

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Twenty Two**

 **\\\/**

Getting out of the castle undetected felt like it took hours. Harry, Ron and Stefan made a quick pit-stop to Slytherin where they picked up their shrunken brooms, Harry's invisibility cloak, and a few other items Harry thought might be useful.

Once they met with Ron, Daphne and Hermione, they began to make their careful way to the front doors. Hermione checked the map every few feet, and the six reprobates managed to avoid Filch and Mrs Norris, but every second wasted was too long for Harry. His family was in danger.

Once they were safely past the front doors and heading across the grounds, Harry began talking in a low voice.

"The same rules that Remus taught us apply. Never go into a dangerous situation without a plan, but be aware that the plan probably won't survive past its initial contact."

"So what do we know about the situation?" Neville chimed in.

"Voldemort, Crouch and Nott for a start," Ron said thoughtfully. "Right Harry? But we don't know exactly how many death eaters are going to show up now Voldemort has summoned them… Do we?"

"Snape of course," Harry said, ticking off his fingers. "Thank Merlin lots of them are in Azkaban so it's a safe bet they can't be there."

"Lucius Malfoy," Daphne said flatly. "Crabbe and Goyle Senior, and my father certainly."

"Avery," Harry picked up the thread. "And Macnair, he works for the ministry. Mad-Eye and Kingsley know they're marked, but they've never been able to prove it."

"Yaxley," Daphne said, scowling. "And Rosier."

As they walked they had come closer and closer to the forbidden forest. Harry shivered. It looked pitch black and foreboding in the gloomy light of the moon. They stepped carefully into the trees, picking their way quietly into the darkness. Harry wanted to light his wand, but knew better than to draw attention to them.

"Dolohov," Harry murmured as they made their way beneath the canopy of the trees. "I don't remember learning about any others who weren't sent to Azkaban."

"How do you _know_ all this?" Neville asked, wide eyed, pushing branches out of his way. The branches seemed a little too eager to brush against them for Harry's liking, and he hurried his steps.

"Mad-Eye," Harry scowled. "I've had lessons on death eaters since before I could walk."

"And my father _is_ one of them," Daphne added, her drawl not disguising the tremor in her voice. "They still like to visit for parties...talk about the good old days.

"Alright so we know about thirteen of them," Ron said quickly. "Including Voldemort. What about Sca - er - Pettigrew."

"Doubt it," Harry said. "Too much of a coward to show up now I reckon."

"I think he would." Hermione chimed in unexpectedly. "Didn't Sirius say he was always looking for someone more powerful to protect him?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully, and finally stopped walking. They had arrived at a large clearing, lit up with pale moonlight. The trees surrounding them rose high into the night sky, casting menacing shadows across the ground, but there were no sounds. Harry shivered. Somehow the silence was even worse, as though the dark forest was listening to their conversation.

It was time to summon the Thestrals. In lieu of any raw meat Harry shook his sleeve back and pulled out his wand. Before his friends could react, he cut a quick gash into the back of his arm. It hurt more than he was expecting, and he winced.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. "What are you doing?"

"Need to summon the Thestrals," Harry panted. "Raw meat is best, but blood will do."

"Idiot," Daphne muttered. After a moment it became clear that none of them knew how to heal a cut, so Harry let the blood drip all over the clearing, and then bound his arm in a strip of robe. In the back of his mind he noted that perhaps they should look at healing at some point in the future. If they made it out alive.

"So we're going to Crouch Manor," Harry said as they waited anxiously. The shadows seemed to be pressing in on them, and he wanted to keep his friends minds away from the dark forest. "And we know there are thirteen of them. There's six of us. Ron? What do you think?"

Ron puffed out his chest importantly. "There might be six of us, but we're not nearly as powerful as them. It's like putting six pawns against thirteen major pieces."

"So what do we do?" Neville said, his voice quavering slightly. Harry understood how he felt. They weren't fantastic odds to be going up against.

"First we scout for information," Ron said firmly. "We need to scope the place out - _quickly_ \- and then worry about getting inside. We need to find out where Mad-Eye and the others are as soon as possible, and make them our top priority. Er, what're those Harry?"

"Portkeys," Harry said, passing out a handful of nondescript-looking clear plastic rings, that looked as though they might have been designed be for muggle children. "I just had a feeling that something like this might happen, so I got Sirius to make me some blanks over the summer."

"Blanks?" Hermione asked curiously, waving her wand over her portkey.

"They don't have a destination yet," Harry explained. "These are for emergencies. If you're in serious danger don't hesitate to use them and get _out_ of there. If it turns out that we've walked into more than we can handle then it's your responsibility to save yourself above all else. Does everyone understand?"

Five pale faces blinked at Harry and nodded.

"How do we set them?" Hermione asked, sounding more subdued.

"You need to hold them and think really hard about a safe place, then cast this spell. I would suggest Storm Cottage, but you might choose somewhere else - like the Burrow for you Ron?"

"Got it," Ron said, looking determined. Harry took a moment to show his friends the correct wand movement and incantation, and within a very short amount of time all of the portkey's were set. Harry nodded approvingly as his friends slid the rings onto their fingers.

"To activate them, just say _portis_ ," Harry said, looking around. "And don't forget - Ron, Neville, Hermione. You're wearing the _Uchawi Pamba_ robes I gave you over the summer, and they're designed to deflect spellfire. They won't stop you from being injured, but they'll lessen the impact any curses have on you."

"I wish we'd known Daphne and Stefan then," Hermione said worriedly. "They don't have any protective robes."

"I know," Harry grimaced. "So you two will have to be extra careful."

Daohne snorted, tossing her head, but Stefan nodded soberly.

"We will," the Norwegian boy said firmly.

Suddenly Hermione jumped backwards with a little scream.

"What was that!?"

Harry looked up from Neville's ring to see several dark, skeletal horses gently picking their way across the clearing between the students. They paused occasionally and bent their heads to the ground, gently lapping at the drops of Harry's blood.

"Thestrals," Harry said with relief. "At last. I was starting to worry." They tossed their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and Harry stretched out his hand eagerly and patted the nearest one's shining neck.

"Are they those horse things?" said Ron uncertainly, staring at a point slightly to the left of the Thestral Harry was patting. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Those would be the ones, yes," said Harry.

"That's what you used to get to Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"They're beautiful," Daphne said calmly, stroking one gently. It nuzzled eagerly into her hand.

"Let's go," Harry said hastily. "We've got to get there as soon as possible."

Harry wound his hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, and pulled himself on to the horse's silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and attempted to lick the robes covering his arm in an attempt to reach the blood. Like on the previous occasion, he found there was a way of lodging his knees behind the wing joints that made him feel more secure, then looked around at the others.

Stefan and Daphne were sitting side by side, both wearing similar expressions of unconcern. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one leg over the creature's back.

Ron and Hermione, however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

"How're we supposed to get on?" said Ron faintly. 'When we can't see the things?'

Harry's scar gave another, more painful, twinge. Every moment they delayed was precious; he did not have time for this. Quickly he slid from his Thestral and guided Ron and Hermione over to a mount each, helping them on to the skeletal steeds and winding their fingers securely into the manes.

"Everyone ready?" Harry asked, returning to his own Thestral. There was a round of nods.

"Crouch Manor," Harry cried clearly, so all the Thestrals could hear him.

For a moment Harry's Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horses silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into the midnight sky.

"This is insane!" Ron roared as they soared over the castle, and streaked into the night.

Harry felt like every second was too long as he thought about Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Sirius, Remus and Tonks somewhere out there. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around his horse's neck as he willed it to go even faster. How much time had elapsed since he had felt his scar burn?

The journey in fact took less time than he had feared - little more than an hour. The moon was still high in the sky when the Thestrals began to descend with a jerk. Harry screwed up his eyes against the wind as the ground came closer and closer - he could see a large building - suddenly, it seemed, they were hurtling towards the ground; Harry gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of his strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow and Harry slid from its back, looking around at the imposing Manor in front of him.

Ron toppled off his Thestral with a slight crunch on the gravel, and looked for a moment as though he might be sick. Hermione and Neville jumped down also looking shaky, but Stefan and Daphne both dismounted serenely.

Harry patted his Thestral gently on the neck. "Thank you," he whispered fervently. "Again."

"What now?" Hermione squeaked.

"We need to scout out the area," Harry instructed. He pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket. "This will cover me and two others. We'll scout the perimeter, see if we can look in the windows, and get back as soon as possible. I think Ron and Daphne should come. Ron because he needs to help strategise, and Daphne because she'll probably recognise whoever we might see."

Harry hesitated, looking at Neville, Hermione and Stefan. "Stick close to the gates," he said finally. "Make sure you aren't seen. Those trees -" Harry gestured at a pair of enormous pines standing majestically must inside the wall "- should provide some cover. If anyone except us comes towards you then you portkey out of here, understand?"

"Yes," Hermione said softly. Neville nodded with a slight grimace. Stefan said nothing, but the firm set of his lips suggested that he had no intention of portkeying anywhere. Harry sighed, and left the matter.

"Let's go," he murmured, holding out his cloak to Daphne and Ron. The pair both ducked beneath it. It was a tight fit, but not impossible - although Harry was worried their feet would show. Slowly they moved towards the imposing stone manor ahead of them.

It didn't take long to perform a circuit of the Manor. It looked exactly as it had done the night Harry and Stefan had attended the Winter Gala. There were lit windows at various levels, but none they could reach from the ground floor. The grounds were dark and deserted, with shadows that made Harry jumpy and tall spiky trees that hovered darkly overhead. But they didn't see a single soul.

"We should try the door," Ron whispered. "Just to see how easily we'll get in."

Harry nodded in agreement, ignoring Daphne's huff of irritation, and they walked softly towards the stone steps. The door was lit by a pair of wrought iron lanterns on either side, and there was a knocker in the shape of a boar. Harry reached for the heavy iron handle and pushed, unsurprised to find it locked.

"Alohomora," Daphne whispered. Harry felt the rush of magic, but when he pushed at the door it remained as imperturbable and unmoving as before. Stumped, the three descended the steps and carefully walked back across the grounds.

"Oh! It's just you," Hermione said, clutching her chest as Harry, Daphne and Ron ducked out from beneath the invisibility cloak.

"What did you find?" Stefan asked intently.

"Nothing," Harry said, quickly filling them in as he stowed his invisibility cloak.

"So they're all inside," Stefan summarised. "And we still don't know how many there are, where they are or how we're going to get in?"

"Actually," Ron interjected, "Getting in should be the easy part. I've got a plan."

"Wel then let's hear it," Harry said, glancing back at the dark buidling.

\\\/

Ron rose silently up the side of the manor on his broom. His right shoulder ached from where he had stumbled against the gate, but he pressed on. He almost wished that his plan hadn't involved flight, as he felt horribly exposed against the side of the building, but he pressed on.

Daphne had been to Crouch Manor on several occasions, and had been certain that the rooftop had a door which led to the rest of the Manor. It was unlikely to be as heavily locked as the front door.

When Ron was almost at the roof he paused, and dismounted his broom on a window ledge. From the arched window of the top storey, he clambered up the ridges of stone, over the stone railing, and onto the roof.

Stefan was already there, panting as he stowed his shrunken broom in his pocket, and he nodded at Ron. Wands in hand, they padded toward the centre, using whatever cover they could find. Stefan froze, and gestured silently at Ron. Ahead of them were two cloaked figures, standing with their backs turned. They seemed to be intent on something in front of them.

Stefan and Ron stopped not ten feet behind the men. The two death eaters leaned on the railing, bandying words with one another. With silent hand gestures, Ron suggested a plan to Stefan. The Norwegian boy nodded.

In a flash, Ron and Stefan burst into the open and struck the Death Eaters with stunning spells before they could draw their wands. The dark figures folded and crumpled silently to the ground. Then they could see what the death eaters had been guarding.

"Shit," Ron summarised.

In front of them, bound, gagged and unconscious, were the missing adults - Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Sirius, Tonks and Remus. They were propped up against one another in a pile, and looked rather the worse for wear. Tonks still had platinum blonde shoulder-length hair, and Mad-Eye had a livid purple bruise across his face.

"Harry was right," Ron muttered.

"If the death eaters overpowered them, then we're definitely doomed," Stefan said glumly.

"It's not checkmate yet. Now we need to move. We can come back for them in a minute, but Harry and the others are exposed waiting for us."

"Shouldn't we wake them now?"

"No time. We need to get the others - what if someone stumbles upon us trying to wake them? We'll be caught too, and the others won't be able to help us."

"Alright. But let's hurry."

The two boys ran to the stairwell and made their way to the main entrance. They almost got lost several times, but followed the main stairs, making sure to stay hidden beneath the cloak. They were lucky, and didn't encounter any other death eaters.

The heavy front doors had a huge iron bar across them, fizzing with magic. It was clearly only intended to keep people _out,_ however, as it did not resist when Ron and Stefan lifted it away. Between them they opened the great front doors to find Harry, Hermione, Neville and Daphne.

"You took your time," Daphne drawled.

Harry hurried everyone inside, glancing around him nervously. "Did you encounter anyone?"

Quickly, Ron and Stefan explained what they had seen.

"Right we need to get up there as fast as possible," Harry decided. "If Voldemort is here then we're going to need backup."

For the first few minutes the Manor seemed deserted. They hurried nervously along dimly lit corridors, following Ron and Stefan to the roof.

Alerted by a slight noise of footstep, Harry glanced back. He heard a sudden shout. By the pale light cast by the iron wrought lanterns mounted on either side of the passageway, he saw seven men garbed entirely in black, their faces masked with skull masks, running toward his group.

In their right hands, the death eaters each raised a wand.

Twisting to face them, Harry drew his wand and threw up a shield, opening his mouth to shout a warning. He was too late

As the first words rang in his throat, three of the death eaters shot off spells towards the hindmost of Harry's friends, and Harry saw Hermione, Ron and Neville collapse to the ground.

Faster than speed or conscious thought, Harry summoned their unconscious bodies out of harm's way. The three flew towards him, as if yanked by invisible strings, and landed in a crumpled heap behind his shield, out of the fight but unharmed.

Two of the black-garbed death eaters rushed him, casting spells with vicious abandon. One conjured a hail of sharp-edged stones to fly towards the group. With a wand in each hand, Harry jumped backwards and conjured a physical shield that deflected the blows, stunned by the death eaters speed and ferocity.

Daphne jumped forwards with a snarl, and slashed a vicious slicing spell at the arm of the closest death eater. The man howled, and dropped his long, pale wand with a clatter. Daphne snatched it from the floor, and with an expression of fierce glee on her face she cast a close range spell, piercing his corded neck.

The mask slipped, and Harry was shocked to glimpse a contorted face. The throat was glowing molten red as it disintegrated around the spell.

"Stick together!" Harry shouted.

Thin cracks split the floors and walls, and flakes of stone fell from the ceiling as his voice reverberated through the corridor. The attacking death eaters faltered , then resumed their offensive.

Harry retreated several feet with Daphne and Stefan, and dropped into a low crouch, like a snake preparing to strike. His heart was racing at twice its normal rate, and although the fight had just begun, he was already gasping for breath.

The hallway was eight feet wide, which was wide enough for three of his six remaining enemies to attack  
him at once. They spread out, two attempting to land curses on Stefan and Daphne, whilst the third seemed to be trying to get close enough to use more close range spells.

Afraid to let them get too close to Hermione, Ron and Neville, Harry raised his Ugandan wand, and sent a bolt of pure energy at the men, momentarily knocking them off balance. He pressed his advantage and threw himself at the three in front until he was close enough, then cast the most powerful cutting curse he could conjure at their necks, beheading the three of them.

Their wands clattered to the floor an instant before their heads.

Leaping over their bodies, Harry twisted in midair and landed on the spot he had started from. He was not a moment too soon.

A breath of wind tickled his neck as a spell whipped past his throat. Another curse tugged at the cuff of his robes, cutting them open. He flinched and cast another shield, hastily extending it to cover Daphne and Stefan.

An involuntary cry escaped his throat as his foot struck a patch of slick blood and he lost his balance and toppled over backward. With a sickening crunch, his head collided with the stone floor. Blue lights flashed before his eyes. He gasped.

Daphne and Stefan sprang over him and cast shields, clearing the air above Harry and saving him from the bite of the flying curses. Daphne lunged at the remaining three death eaters with her wand outstretched and began hexing violently. She had a wild, terrible kind of glee on her face. One man fell to the ground, clutching his arm and howling. His companions paid his throes no attention.

"Give up!" The death eater on the right snarled. "You cannot escape the Dark Lord."

Harry scrambled to his feet, spitting out blood, and drew his wand again. Then he realised Daphne had frozen, and was staring at the masked form of the death eater. Slowly her face changed from blank to a rictus of fury.

"Father," she hissed.

"I take no pleasure in finding you here Daphne," the death eater said, circling with his wand aloft. "Give up. Give up and join the Dark Lord. I thought I had taught you better than this."

"You!" Stefan shouted, and cast a sickly purple jet of light at the death eater without speaking an incantation. Daphne's father batted it away like it was an irritating fly, and they resumed exchanging spellfire.

Suddenly Harry clipped the other death eater with a bone breaking curse, and he dropped to the ground screaming as every bone in his body shattered. Daphne's father hesitated, looking at them for a long moment. Then he turned and fled to the end of the hallway with his dark robes billowing behind him. Daphne took off after him like a bat out of hell, without a backwards glance.

"Daphne! No!" Stefan shouted, but she ignored their cries, and within seconds, she too had disappeared out of sight.

"Great," Harry groaned, ignoring the twitching death eater in front of them. "Perfect. Just perfect. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Stefan nodded, dropping to his knees to check on Hermione, Ron and Neville. "And they are merely stunned."

"Ennervate," Harry said, pointing his wand at Hermione. Nothing happened. She continued to lie there, pale and unmoving.

"Not merely stunned," Harry corrected, leaning down and checking for a pulse. "But they're alive. All we can do for now is hide them."

Harry and Stefan dragged the three through the nearest doorway, with great effort. Beyond was a banquet room filled with broad wooden tables. Shields lined the walls, and the wood ceiling was trussed with curved beams.

Harry laid the limp form of Ron on a table and looked at the ceiling worriedly. "We need to get Kingsley and Mad-Eye free. Are you sure you saw them on the roof?"

"Yes."

"Well you can bet they know we're here now. We need to get up there.

"I can free them, and wake them. Do not worry - I have a plan." Stefan said.

There were shouts in the distance. Deatheaters ran past the entrance to the banquet room. Harry's mouth tightened with pent-up tension. "Whatever you're planning to do, I don't think we have much time."

"Hurry up then, we need to hide them," Stefan said, lifting Hermione into a corner beneath a table, Harry pushed Hermione beneath, then returned for Neville. When all three were out of sight, Harry sighed.

"You were brilliant by the way," Harry admitted. "You saved my life."

"As you have also saved mine," remarked Stefan. He stiffened as they heard men running nearby. "Let us just hope Crouch Junior doesn't find us."

Harry's blood ran cold when he heard a cold chuckle behind him.

"Oh I'm afraid it is a little too late for that."

Stefan and Harry spun around. Barty Crouch the younger stood alone at the end of the room, exactly the way Harry had seen him in his dreams. In his hand was a long, pale wand. He was shorter than Harry had expected, and pale-faced, with the nervous twitch and straw-coloured hair Harry remembered from his dreams.

Harry quickly muttered this information to Stefan, making sure he knew who stood before him.

"So, young ones, you have invaded my ancestral home. Shall I suppose you wish to test yourself against me?" sneered Crouch.

"I'll take care of him," said Stefan quietly drawing his wand.

"No," said Harry under his breath. "He wants me alive, not you. I can stall him for a short while, but then you'd better have a way out for us."

"Very well, I go," said Stefan. "You won't have to struggle alone for long. I have a plan."

"I hope so," said Harry grimly. He drew his wand and slowly advanced.

Crouch's eyes glinted in the light from the torches on the walls. He laughed softly. "Do you really think to defeat me, Boy Who Lived? Many have tried and failed… And why you are just a child. "

Harry refused to let himself be goaded. He stared at Crouch's face, waiting for a flicker of his eyes or twitch of his lip, anything that would betray his next move. _I can't use any weapons, it would mean giving up my wand hand._

Before either of them moved, the ceiling boomed and shook. Dust billowed from it and turned the air gray while pieces of wood fell around them, shattering on the floor. From the roof came screams and the sound of shouted spells Afraid of being brained by the falling timber, Harry flicked his eyes upward. Crouch took advantage of his distraction and attacked.

Harry barely managed to get a shield up in time to block a jet of fire. He sent a return shot at Crouch's head, but the older man blocked it with ease, whipping his wand through the air faster than Harry had thought possible.

Terrible screeches sounded above them, like iron spikes being drawn across rock. Three long cracks split the ceiling. Shingles from the slate roof fell through the fissures. Harry ignored them, even when one smashed into the floor next to him. Though he had trained with Remus, Kingsley and Mad-Eye - all masters in dueling - he had never been this outclassed. Crouch was playing with him.

Harry retreated toward Stefan, shield trembling as he parried Crouch's spells. Each one seemed more powerful than the last. Harry was no longer able to hold off the curses long enough to begin an offensive attack. He couldn't see Stefan behind him, and hoped the other boy had gone for help.

Then, with a contemptuous flick of his wand, Crouch sent Harry's wand flying from his hand. The force of the spell sent him to his knees, where he stayed, panting. The screeching was louder than ever. Whatever was  
happening, it was getting closer.

Crouch stared down at him haughtily. "A powerful piece you may be in the game that is being played, but I'm disappointed that this is your best. The Dark Lord will not find competition in you Harry Potter."

Harry looked up and shook his head. He was listening to the shouting voices above, and thought he had figured out Stefan's plan.

"No, you forget something."

"And what might that be?" asked Crouch mockingly.

There was a thunderous reverberation as a chunk of the ceiling was torn away to reveal the night sky. Six figures appeared on the edge, and dropped down to the banquet hall, landing unnaturally lightly on their feet.

Kingsley. Mad-Eye Moody. Tonks. Remus. Sirius.

And Stefan, grinning victoriously with his wand clutched in his hand.

"That we fight together!" roared Harry over the noise, and threw himself out of the Crouch's reach. Crouch snarled in rage, shooting spells viciously. He missed and lunged. Surprise spread across his face as a jet of red light almost hit him in the shoulder.

Crouch laughed. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to stop me."

The next spell caught him between the eyes. Crouch howled with agony and writhed, covering his face. His skin turned gray. He fell to his knees with a shattering cry, and then disappeared.

"I killed him," Stefan exclaimed, sounding astonished.

"What did you use lad?" Mad-Eye asked, limping forward to examine the space where Crouch had vanished.

"Blood freezing curse," Stefan said, without a hint of regret. "First year spell at Durmstrang."

"In theory he should be dead," Mad-Eye conceded, his magical eye spinning. "But he disapparated, so there's every chance he's drinking the antidote right now."

Harry didn't say anything, but privately thought Mad-Eye was probably right. He took a moment to embrace each of his four father figures, knowing he had come very close to never feeling their arms around him again.

"You shouldn't be here Harry," Kingsley said, returning Harry's quick embrace.

"Next time I'll leave you to die then," Harry retorted.

"He has a point Kings'," Sirius agreed. "If these two hadn't come along, the Dark Lord would be having us on toast tomorrow morning."

"It's not just them Black," Mad-Eye growled, his magical eye spinning to focus on the table that Harry and Stefan had hidden their friends beneath. "They brought company."

"Not the first years," Remus pleaded. "Please tell me you didn't bring Ginny or Luna."

"Ginny and Luna are at Hogwarts, ready to raise the alarm if we don't come back," Harry promised. "We came here to find you. Nobody was injured."

"Good," Mad-Eye grunted, as Kingsley and Sirius began pulling the unconscious bodies of Hermione, Ron and Neville from beneath the table.

Remus and Sirius were tasked with the job of taking the unconscious three to Saint Mungo's. Harry could see that Kingsley dearly wanted to insist that Harry and Stefan left too, but Mad-Eye insisted that if Voldemort was here, Harry deserved the chance to face him.

But then Mad-Eye had always displayed questionable judgement when dealing with children.

After Remus and Sirius had departed with the unconscious bodies of Neville, Hermione and Ron, the remaining four quickly formulated a plan. As far as they knew, Voldemort had minimal protection now.

"Two unconscious on the roof, six dead in the corridor, Crouch in here," Harry said quickly. "That's nine. Then Daphne's father ran off. Plus Voldemort, eleven. Three unaccounted for, one of them probably Nott."

"So he's probably with Voldemort," Stefan agreed. "And at least one, possibly more, still running around."

"We counted the death eaters who ought to be here," Harry quickly explained to Mad-Eye and Kingsley. "But of course there might be more."

"Good job," Mad-Eye grunted. "We need to be on guard then."

"Did you say Daphne?" Kingsley asked, looking horrified. "She was here too, and you don't know where she is?"

"We lost her," Harry admitted. "She took off after her father, we had to look after the others. But she has a portkey out of here if she needs it - if things go badly. She should be safe."

"We have to focus on the biggest threat," Mad-Eye said. "Now Potter, can you tell us where Voldemort is sitting pretty in this place?"

Harry only had to close his eyes and allow the thoughts of Voldemort to overwhelm him, and he knew where he was. He traced the location through the Manor, using Voldemort's own memories as a guide through which to find a route. When he was certain, he severed the mental connection.

Harry snapped open his eyes. "Found him. He's in some kind of private underground sitting room, even further down than the dungeons."

"Are you sure?" Mad-Eye asked searchingly. Harry nodded.

"Completely. I can lead us there."

The four men hurried through the Manor, following Harry. In his mind, Harry traced the route he had seen Lord Voldemort take, as they ran down corridor after corridor. When they reached the ground floor, Harry led them to a narrow set of stairs, concealed behind a moveable bookcase.

"Down there," Harry murmured, as Kingsley hefted the bookcase out of the way with a grunt.

They descended with their wands out, expecting an attack to come at any minute. But they were alone. At the bottom of the stairs, a dark tunnel lay ahead of them.

Rising their wands, the four men approached the unlit tunnel. Harry flicked his gaze from one stone protrusion to another, expecting Crouch to spring out from behind one of them. He moved slowly in order that his footsteps would not echo in the winding shaft. When he happened to touch a rock to steady himself, he found it coated in slime.

After a score of yards, several folds and twists in the passageway hid the stairwell and plunged them  
into a gloom so profound, they found it impossible to see.

"Maybe you're different Alastor, but I can't fight in the dark," whispered Kingsley.

"If we make a light, Crouch, Nott or Voldemort might see us coming."

"What are we supposed to do? I'm more likely to run into a wall and break my nose than I am to find those three…. They could sneak around behind us and Avada us before we can cast a shield," Harry protested.

Mad-Eye scowled, but cast a light. The narrow tunnel ahead of them lit up, damp and unpleasant.

A current of air tickled Harry's skin, then paused and reversed itself as pressure from the outside waxed and waned. The cycle repeated itself at inconsistent intervals, creating invisible eddies that brushed against him like fountains of roiling water.

His breathing, and that of the others, was loud and ragged compared with the odd assortment of sounds that  
propagated through the tunnel. Above the gusts of their respiration, Harry caught the tink, clink, clatter of a stone falling somewhere in the tangle of branching tubes and the steady doink . . . doink . . . doink of condensed droplets striking the drumlike surface of a subterranean pool. He also heard the grind of pea-sized gravel crushed underneath the soles of his boots. A long, eerie moan wavered somewhere far ahead of them.

After descending far, far into the bowels of the Manor, the ground suddenly levelled out beneath them. They stopped on a plane of rock, and Harry increased the power of his Lumos to light up the corridor ahead. The stone hallway was dotted with twenty or so ironbound doors, some on either side. Harry pointed to the end.

Ahead of them lay a door that looked out of place in its surroundings. It was a deep mahogany, and alone among the dungeons, looked as though it belonged to the Manor overhead.

"There," Harry whispered.

"Can you see what's behind it Alastor?" Kingsley murmured.

Mad-Eye concentrated, his electric blue eye narrowing towards the doorway.

"It's him," the aging auror snarled. "The bastard himself. And he's alone."

"Voldemort," Stefan hissed.

Harry reached out and pushed open the door.

On the other side of the door was a dark chamber. Harry was unsure of its size, for the walls lay hidden in velvet shadows. A line of lanterns mounted on iron poles ran straight out from either side of the entranceway, illuminating the patterned floor and little else, while a faint glow came from above through balls of light hovering near the distant ceiling. The two rows of lanterns ended over forty feet away, near the base of a broad dais, upon which rested a sumptuous chair.

On the chair sat a single, tiny, crumpled black figure, and on his lap lay a pale wand, a long twisted stick that seemed to emit a faint glow.

Harry swallowed and tightened his grip on his wand. Beside him he heard Stefan's sharp intake of breath, and Mad-Eye's soft snarl. Then, by unspoken consent, the four of them started forward.

The moment they were all in the room, the mahogany door swung shut behind them. Harry had expected as much, but still, the noise of it closing made him start. As the echoes faded to dusky silence within the chamber, the figure upon the throne stirred, as if waking from sleep, and then a voice—a voice such as Harry had never heard before: cold and high - rang forth from the far side of the room.

"Ah, I have been expecting you. Welcome to my abode. And welcome to you in particular, Harry Potter. I have much desired to meet with you. But I am also glad to see you, Alastor Moody, and you as well, Kingsley Shacklebolt. And of course your foreign companion, with whom I am unfamiliar. Please, do come in."

\\\/

 **The last chapter pushed this story over 1000 reviews. I'm still speechless that so many people have chosen to join Harry and his friends on this journey. Thank you a thousand times for taking the time to read the inconsistent, sometimes incoherent and often delayed ramblings of an amateur author. We've a long road ahead, the story is planned out to sixth year so far, and I'm so excited to have you all with me on this trip!**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	41. Chapter 41

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Three**

 **\\\/**

Afraid but determined, Harry strode forward with Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and Stefan toward the dais where the tiny figure of Voldemort sat crumpled upon his seat.

It was a short walk, but it felt like time had slowed down for Harry. His mind considered a number of strategies, most of which he discarded as impractical. He knew that if brute strength was all it took to defeat Voldemort then he would already be dead; it would require something more than that. But they had no choice now but to confront the figure in the chair

The two rows of lanterns that led to the dais were wide enough apart that the four of them were able to walk side by side. For that Harry was glad, as it meant that they approached all together, and nobody was pushed out ahead of the others.

As they approached the chair, Harry continued to study the chamber around them. It was, he thought, a strange room. Aside from the bright path that lay before them, most of the space was hidden within impenetrable gloom, and the air contained a dry, musky scent that seemed familiar, even though he could not place it.

"Where is Nott?" he said in an undertone.

Mad-Eye grunted slightly. "No doubt hidden in some dark corner in case we make a sudden move."

When they were perhaps ten feet from the dais, they halted. Now they could see that behind the chair there was a heavy stone wall. A shadow hung over Voldemort, concealing his features. Then he leaned forwards into the light, and Harry saw his face. He recoiled.

It was like looking at a horribly, dreadfully deformed human child. The body was small and twisted in unpleasant ways, only suggested beneath the robes, and the face was thin and gaunt. His eyes were a deep scarlet, and his nose was flattened and snakelike. His mouth was thin and wide with a slight downturn at the corners, and hair face was hairless. There was a yellowish, unhealthy look to his skin, and in spite of his size the very sight of him struck dumb terror into Harry's heart.

The moment the vermilion eyes lifted to his Harry felt his scar explode with pain. He forced himself to remain standing, forced himself to meet that gaze, even as his knees buckled. Harry felt a hand grasp his on either side - warm and calloused on the right; Kingsley, and cool and firm on the left; Stefan - and used that strength to straighten his back.

On Voldemort's lap rested his wand. It was a British wand, from Ollivanders, that much was obvious, but Harry had  
never seen its like before. The entire length of wood was stark white, while the hilt was an off-white ivory. Altogether, there was something about the wand that Harry found unsettling. Its colour—or rather its lack of colour—reminded him of a sun-bleached bone. It was the colour of death, not life, and it seemed far more dangerous than any shade of black, be it ever so dark.

Voldemort examined them each in turn with his sharp, unblinking gaze.

"So, you have come to kill me," he said, a mocking smile twisting the child-like shrivelled lips.

"Yes."

Harry didn't know where the word came from, but suddenly he was burning with fury. That mocking little smile set a fury burning inside him. Voldemort was _enjoying_ this. He wasn't afraid at all. More than anything Harry wanted to see that smug little smile wiped off the twisted face in front of him.

Slowly, deliberately, Harry drew his wand. Beside him he felt rather than saw his companions do the same. Still, Voldemort smiled.

"Reducto!" Harry shouted, aiming directly at Voldemort's chest. A moment later three jets of light shot past him as Kingsley, Mad-Eye and Stefan loosed their own curses.

A glittering shield sprang into existence between the four and Voldemort, deflecting all four spells. Harry ducked as his own blasting curse whistled back towards him, catching the hair on his head. He straightened up, ready to duck in case of returning spellfire, and realised Voldemort hadn't moved from his position.

 _Then who cast the shield?_

The question was answered when Mad-Eye suddenly gestured from beside Harry.

"Finite incantatem," Mad-Eye snarled, and shot off two spells in quick succession.

Harry was surprised when he aimed for the sides of the chair rather than Voldemort himself. A moment later Harry cursed, as the air began to shift. Like paint dripping down a canvas, colours began to appear where there had been previously none. Two figures came into view, one standing on either side of Voldemort's chair. They had been disillusioned.

"Crouch," Stefan hissed. "Recovered from having your blood frozen already?"

Crouch looked much paler than he had upstairs, but glared back at Stefan. Harry noticed one hand was steadying himself on the chair. On the other side of Voldemort, Nott stood silently. He looked just the way Harry remembered him from the Winter Gala - tall and grim, with silver hair. Neither man was wearing a death eater mask.

Without waiting longer than a second, Kingsley and Mad-Eye began casting spells in a quick net configuration. Harry had watched them many times before, but always admired the way the men worked together. Nott and Crouch were quick though, and managed to evade all harmful spells whilst still covering Voldemort. The latter seemed to be enjoying the show.

"Move!" Harry shouted to Stefan as a sickly jet of green light hurtled towards them. Stefan dropped to the ground and rolled sideways, coming up on one knee and returning fire.

Taking advantage of the distraction Harry stepped backwards. Seamlessly Kingsley and Mad-Eye stepped into the space where Harry had been, giving him time to pull his invisibility cloak over his head.

"Where is he?" Voldemort screeched. "Find him! Kill them!"

Crouch and Nott stepped down from the dias and began advancing towards the small group, continuing their hail of spellfire. Covered by the cloak, Harry ducked beneath a nasty purple spell and began making his way around the group of fighters. Crouch and Nott were both superb duelists, but Mad-Eye and Kingsley were seasoned aurors and matched their every move. Stefan didn't have the speed nor the power, but he made up for it with a viciousness that chilled Harry to the bone.

Harry crept up as close as he could to Nott, and felt the moment the older man knew he was close. Even as Nott began to spin towards Harry, he began to cast.

"Confrigo!" Harry roared, sending a blast at Nott's legs in an attempt to down the man. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The jet of light left Harry's wand and struck the older man in his kneecaps, blasting them apart. Nott wore a look of shock and fury as he slumped to the ground without legs to hold him upright.

"Expulso!" Stefan cried, running towards Harry and Nott with his wand outstretched. His dark eyes were lit up with the flame of battle, and the sickly curse hit Nott directly in the chest. Harry threw himself backwards, but not in time.

"No!" Crouch roared, but he was too late. Nott's chest and stomach exploded in a revolting display of magic, and everything within three feet was showered in particles of flesh and entrails. It was a particularly disgusting way to die.

"Yes!" Mad-Eye roared. "Good lad! Watch your back."

Harry threw up a shield over Stefan just in time, as Crouch sent a volley of spellfire at the young boy. Clearly he was regretting underestimating the child in the room, where he had previously focussed all of his energy on Kingsley and Mad-Eye.

Harry chanced a glance over at the chair on the dias. Voldemort hadn't been taking part in the fight thus far, seeming content to watch. It was an arrogant display that enraged Harry. But at the death of one of his two lieutenants the creature in the chair let out a high pitched scream of fury, a jangling noise that sent chills down Harry's back.

"You _dare…Sectumsempra_!"

Stefan got his wand up to block the spell just in time, and conjured a large shield. Harry wanted to cry out a warning as soon as he saw the shield Stefan had chosen. It was a deflective shield rather than an absorptive one, and the cutting curse ricocheted off the surface at an angle, heading directly towards Kingsley.

"No!" Harry roared, but he couldn't get there in time. Someone else could though.

"Not on my watch laddie," Mad-Eye snarled, pushing Kingsley sideways so hard he knocked the younger man to the ground. The spell struck the older auror full in the face, and Harry saw a spray of blood before all was obscured, and Mad-Eye fell heavily to the ground.

Rage, white-hot fury like nothing Harry had ever felt before roared up in his chest like a dragon. The attack on a man he considered family seemed to snap something inside Harry, and everything came suddenly into sharp focus.

Kingsley, struggling to get to his feet with his wand in his hand. Mad-Eye lying huddled on the ground, and Stefan - Stefan was picking up Harry's invisibility cloak from where Harry had left it lying on the ground. A moment later and the Norwegian boy disappeared.

Everything came to a standstill, and Harry knew what he had to do. It took seconds to swap his British wand for his Ugandan wand, and the warm wood of his homeland seemed to sing in Harry's hand. It felt as though they became one, and the wand became an extension of his arm. For a moment Harry felt like there were voices singing in his head, soothing Ugandan chanting and the sound of tribal drums pounding in time with the beating of his heart.

Ugandan magic was about intent, not spells. It was just as well, because Harry's mind was obscured by rage and he couldn't remember a spell to save his life. Suddenly he felt a cool hand grasp his, and though he couldn't see a thing he knew that Stefan was standing beside him.

"I'll shield, you get him," Stefan whispered. "Just like double-teaming in practice."

Harry couldn't do more than nod. The fire inside him was reaching fever pitch and if he didn't release it soon he would be engulfed and incinerated from the inside out. He raised his wand, and saw Voldemort's eyes widening. The thin mouth opened to cast a spell, and Harry saw a shield spring into existence. But he was ready.

Harry let his magic unleash. He became a vessel, a crucible in the furnace as the burning hot rage inside him flowed through his body and down to his wand. The fire struck the Voldemort-creature in the chest, obliterating the shield as though it wasn't there at all, and continued inside the shrivelled body.

A fully restored Voldemort wouldn't have been destroyed by the spell. But the semi-human frail construct couldn't withstand such an attack, and Harry held hire fire steady as the body burned. A hideous, high-pitched shriek like the screech of torn metal echoed around the room, and Stefan threw up a shield between he and Harry and the explosion.

" _Reducto!"_ Harry heard a voice roar from somewhere on his left, and he twisted his head to see Kingsley on his feet, his face twisted into a rictus of hatred as he hurled the spell at Voldemort.

The twisted corpse of Voldemort exploded into a rain of ashes, floating down over their heads and settling on the chair with obscene gentleness.

Then Harry screamed, and fell to his knees. Pain, terrible pain hit him between the eyes like a sledgehammer, and he felt rather than saw the horrifying black wraith that came from the ashes.

 _I am not gone Harry Potter. I will return._

The wraith hovered before Harry for a moment like a swirling mass of darkness, and then in seconds it was gone. The pain receded instantly, and Harry felt to his knees. The cold floor was the most soothing thing Harry had ever felt, and he felt two hands on his shoulders.

"It's alright son," Kingsley rumbled. "It's over now."

But Harry knew it was not.

\\\/

"Where did Crouch go?" Stefan asked a few minutes later, frantically looking around the room.

Kingsley swore, but didn't move from where he was kneeling beside the prone body of Mad-Eye

"We can't leave Alastor. He's still alive, but that spell tore half of his face off and he'll bleed out if we leave it any longer. He needs a healer right now."

"I believe I may be of some assistance in this matter."

A cool, silky, sibilant voice echoed across the chamber. Instantly Harry, Stefan and Kingsley were on their feet with their wands out, pointing directly at the intruder. The figure stepped forward into the light and Harry relaxed slightly, but didn't lower his wand.

"Snape," Kingsley said warily. "What are you doing here? Did Dumbledore send you?"

Snape was wearing long dark death eater robes, and his face looked drawn. His mask was nowhere in sight, but he held his wand in readiness. He approached slowly, making no sudden moves.

"The Dark Lord summoned me just before midnight. Albus and I knew it would happen soon. I was supposed to watch...and report back to him. My usual duties. I believe the question " _what are you doing here"_ is far more pertinent when applied to _you."_

"We're doing our jobs, Snape. We're aurors." Kingsley growled. "Hunting down and eradicating Voldemort."

"Please Professor," Harry broke in. "Just look at Mad-Eye first, please."

Snape looked at Harry for a long moment and then nodded. He strode quickly over to the body of the Auror and dropped to his knees. He raised his wand and began casting a series of complicated spells in tight sequences over Mad-Eye's damaged face. Damaged wasn't really the word, Harry thought. It was impossible to tell what the auror looked like: his face could be mistaken for a bloody chunk of meat.

"We didn't know Voldemort would summon his followers on this night," Kingsley admitted after a moment. "Harry had a dream that Voldemort was preparing some terrible plan and we felt we had no choice but to act before it was too late."

"A dream?" Snape turned to Harry sharply, not pausing in his wand motions. "You dreamt of the Dark Lord?"

"Um, yeah," Harry admitted. "A few times. I saw him with Crouch and Nott, and I saw him kill the Minister of Magic."

If Harry had not seen it with his own eyes he would not have believed it possible. Snape blanched, and turned the grey colour of porridge, and began to shake his head in denial.

"The Minister of Magic is not dead."

"Yes he is," Harry insisted. "I saw it! Crouch killed his father."

"When did this take place?"

"A couple of night ago."

"I've seen the memory," Kingsley broke in."It contains details impossible to falsify. Can I ask what you are speaking of?"

"Because," Snape said slowly. "Only moments after we felt the Dark Lord fall, less than _five minutes ago_ , the Minister of Magic stepped outside of the Manor and spoke to the crowd outside. He claimed to have been locked in a dungeon by Senior Undersecretary Nott, who had been acting on the whims of the Dark Lord. Minister Crouch also claimed that he had finally managed to overpower his gaoler this night and break free."

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "That's not true! Minister Crouch is _dead!_ "

"I saw it Potter," Snape snapped. "Minister Crouch is most likely at the Ministry dealing with the aftermath at this very moment."

"But…" Harry didn't know what to say. His dream had been real. It _had_ to have been real.

Perhaps Mad-Eye would have been the first to realise what had occurred had he been conscious to do so. But he was not, and therefore it was Kingsley who reached the correct conclusion first.

"Crouch Junior," he stated simply. Snape sucked in a breath.

"Of course," Stefan breathed. "Polyjuice Potion."

"Voldemort and Crouch talked about losing their best potioneer," Harry choked out. "They must have been brewing polyjuice! This must have been their plan all along!"

"Crouch Junior plans to pose as Minister of Magic," Snape said, his voice bleak. Absentmindedly he pulled a small bottle from his pocket. Uncapping it, he poured a couple of drops over Mad-Eye's ruined face. The drops sizzled and hissed, and the alarming flow of blood slowed to a trickle.

"We have to stop him!" Harry said, beginning to stand up.

"No." Kingsley and Snape both spoke at the same time, but Snape was nearest. He reached out and awkwardly placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, the expression on his face suggesting he found it extremely uncomfortable to do do.

"Potter I'm not going to ask how you ended up here tonight, although I know perfectly well you did not arrive with your guardians."

"You're not going to ask?" Harry said, confused. He looked at the hand on his shoulder, and Snape withdrew it.

"No, there are more pressing concerns upon us. Not to mention I am sure Professor Dumbledore will wish to speak to you about the matter himself."

"Fuck," Harry muttered, and Stefan sniggered nervously at his gaffe. "Err, I mean, damn."

"The point I am trying to press, Potter, is that it is impossible for you to go chasing after a man who looks exactly like the Minister of Magic, claiming him to be an imposter. As far as the Ministry is concerned, Minister Crouch has been through a terrible ordeal. They will not take kindly to your aspersions, and that is if Crouch does not decide to simply blow his cover and kill you himself."

"But…"

"Potter it is very late, and your guardian is bleeding out on the floor. I would suggest that you return to school with Mr Skorik, so that Shacklebolt and I can bring Mr Moody to St Mungo's where he can receive the help he needs."

"Severus is right Harry," Kingsley said, looking up at Harry. He smiled at him, but it was a shaky attempt and Harry could see how hard his father was finding it to keep himself together. Harry sighed.

"You're right. Of course you're right. It's just...so hard to let him do this."

"Sometimes in battle it is just as important to know the right time to retreat and regroup, as to know when to attack," Stefan said unexpectedly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Now is time to retreat. We did what we came here for. Your family is all alive, Voldemort is gone."

 _But he isn't._

Harry nodded silently, and stood, taking Stefan's proffered hand. It must be almost morning, and far too late to be having that kind of conversation. Harry knew it would occur soon enough anyway.

"I'll take you back to Storm Cottage, Harry," Kingsley said. "Severus needs to take Alastor to St Mungo's."

"No," Harry said quietly. "No we have portkeys. We can get back by ourselves. You go with Mad-Eye - you know you'll have to come up with an explanation for what happened."

"Are you sure?" Kingsley frowned at the boys, but his eyes darted back to Mad-Eye.

"I'll get him back," Stefan promised.

"You can't portkey down here," Snape said. "You'll have to go up to the entrance hall. The Dark Lord had every protection added to these dungeons."

"Very well," Kingsley nodded, standing up and striding over to the two boys. He engulfed them both in a massive bear hug, crushing Harry and Stefan to his sides.

"I am so proud of you both. You saved our lives tonight, and you fought beside us like men. Well done."

Harry felt his eyes prick with tears, and blinked them back furiously. He wrapped his arms as far around Kingsley as they could go.

"Love you dad."

Kingsley's breath hitched.

"Love you son."

\\\/

"Harry," Stefan caught Harry's sleeve in the entrance hall.

"What's the matter?"

"Daphne."

"Oh shit! We need to find her," Harry gasped. In the ruckus he had almost forgotten that Daphne wasn't with the rest of their friends.

"If her father did anything to hurt her I swear to Merlin I'll kill him myself," Stefan hissed. His eyes flashed, reminding Harry that the werewolf was only ever so far beneath the surface.

"Let's check the upper levels first. That's where we last saw her."

Harry and Stefan ran for the stairs and jogged up to the top floor. They prowled down corridors and poked their heads into bedrooms and bathrooms but didn't see any sign of Daphne or her father. On the next floor down they found the bodies of the three death eaters Harry had beheaded. They were lying awkwardly in the corridor in a heap of limbs and robes, dark liquid seeping into the flagstones.

"That's disgusting," Stefan grimaced, giving one robed body a kick for good measure. Harry stared, morbid curiosity overcoming him. The desire to know exactly whom he had killed was strong.

"Harry come on,"

"Just a second."

The heads lay in the middle of the corridor, thick dark blood congealed beneath them. The silver skull masks still covered their faces. Harry reached out a finger and flicked the mask off the nearest face.

"Yaxley. Huh," Harry said with a shudder. There was something terrible about these heads, and knowing he had been the one to part them from their bodies. Yaxley's blue eyes were open and he stared up at Harry. Accusingly, it felt like.

"Harry we don't need to stay here. You don't need to do this."

Ignoring Stefan, Harry reached for the next head.

"Dolohov. Good, some of the stuff he did in the last war was _really_ disgusting."

"Are you alright Harry?"

Harry reached for the third and final head. It was further away than the others, and had more blood oozing from beneath the mask. Quickly, so he touched it for as little time as possible, Harry slipped his fingers beneath the mask and flicked it off. He jumped backwards as though he had been struck.

"Goyle. Oh Merlin, why did it have to be him? I have to share a dormitory with his son!"

"You need to get away from here," Stefan said. Harry looked back and was surprised to see how distressed his friend looked. Then realisation struck him. He had been examining beheaded heads in the middle of a corridor, only hours after he had killed them.

"Shit I'm so sorry Stefan, I don't know what I was thinking. I just had to know."

"It's alright," Stefan said quickly. "But we really need to find Daphne. And get away from these bodies."

"Yes. Yes."

They made their way along the corridor, through a series of hallways and parlour rooms and towards the rear of the house.

"Did you hear that?" Stefan asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side.

"Hear what?" Harry listened as hard as he could but he couldn't hear a thing.

"Must be a werewolf thing. This way."

Stefan took off at a run, jogging through a richly decorated bedroom leaving black footprints all over the carpets. The went back out into the corridor, and Stefan paused by a door. He knocked gently.

"Daphne? Are you in there?"

There was a clatter from inside the room, as though someone inside had been interrupted or startled. After a moment the voice called back.

"Stefan?"

It was definitely Daphne's voice.

"Let us in," Harry said, twisting the door handle. It was locked.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Then what sounded like a sigh, followed by a click as the door swung open inwards. Harry and Stefan stepped forward together and then paused, frozen.

"Oh bloody hell," Harry whispered.

It was, indeed, like stepping into a bloody version of the ninth circle of hell.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier flittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. It seemed to be the remains of a small parlour.

But it was the blood that had made both boys pause. Dark red and glutinous, and spattered over the wallpaper, trickling down to puddle on the floor.

Harry's small intake of breath made the girl standing in the centre of the wreckage look around.

"Not pretty, is it?" Daphne said heavily.

Daphne was stood by a little window overlooking the front drive, one hand idly caressing her throat. Her robes were torn and spattered with dark liquid, and her face looked pale and wan.

Harry moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet. Stefan followed, gazing around warily.

"Look," Daphne said, gesturing out of the window. "Vultures."

Harry moved across the room, stepping over the bloodstains on the carpet, and looked out of the window. It took him a long moment to process what he was looking at, and then he groaned. There were crowds of people down below, just beyond the gates of the Manor. Photographers, news-wizards, what appeared to be groups of casual gawkers, and ministry officials. Some of them were casting spells on the gates, whilst others circled overhead on broomsticks.

"Why are they out there?" Harry asked with his brow furrowed.

"The Minister warded the gates," Daphne said quietly. "And said that nobody was allowed inside until he returned."

"That wasn't the Minister," Harry said hastily. In quick words he explained everything that had happened below the Manor. Daphne looked startled, but unsurprised.

"I knew it was too good to be true when Minister Crouch walked out alive," she said with a sigh. "Especially after your dream."

There was something off about Daphne, Harry noticed. She seemed uneasy in their presence, and wasn't looking either boy in the eye.

"I" Harry began, but Stefan stopped him with a quavering voice.

"Harry? I think you need to see this."

Harry turned around, and then rather wished he hadn't. Half hidden behind an upturned mahogany table were a pair of legs. He circled warily around the table and groaned when he saw what lay behind.

"Daphne…"

"He was going to kill me!"

A man that Harry recognised instantly as Daphne's father lay awkwardly behind the table. He was quite obviously dead, a fact made obvious by his innards spread all over the front of his robes.

The body was a mess. The face was mostly intact, but the arms were ripped and shredded, and both legs were obviously broken. But it was the gaping hole in the chest cavity that really made Harry uncomfortable. Harry grimaced as he saw a flicker of emerald green scales in the mess of flesh, and realised Cyrene the basilisk was gnawing contentedly on a piece of dark red meat that looked like it might have one been the man's liver.

"You killed him? By yourself?"

"No," Daphne said, a slight smile flickering over her face. "Cyrene did. Basilisk poison is still potent when the basilisk in question has been shrunk."

"Right." Harry didn't see the humour in the situation, but couldn't blame Daphne for being glad her torturer was gone.

"We need to get out of here Daphne," Stefan said quietly. He put a gentle hand on her arm. "Mad-Eye is hurt, Kingsley and Professor Snape have taken him to St Mungo's. We're alone here, and Crouch could come back. We need to leave quickly."

"And if you get caught here I don't want to imagine what would happen to you," Harry added.

Harry turned to the door, but stopped when he realised Daphne wasn't following. He looked back. The blonde girl had a sad smile on her lips

"I'm not coming Harry. I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

" _What_?"

"Oh Harry." Daphne smiled at him, her lips quirking incongruously. She looked both like the girl he knew, and someone nothing at all like her.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Harry asked warily, his gaze flickering to the dead body by the upturned table.

"You can't save me. Even if I wanted to be saved, it was too late a long, long time ago."

"Daphne," Stefan said softly, staring at their friend. "It's never too late for anyone. It's okay if you don't want to go back. Come with me - come to Norway. I'll make sure nobody ever hurts you again."

"You don't get it either Stefan," Daphne said quietly. She hesitated. Outside the window, the shouting was getting louder.

"I'm not that girl. I'm not your damsel in distress to save. The little Daphne who was hurt...died a long time ago. Today I was set free, but that doesn't make me whole again."

"Daphne," Harry said, taking a step closer. "You can't leave."

"Oh but I can."

Harry froze for a moment, the prophetic words of the witch Ana drifting through his mind with perfect clarity.

 _You will lose - for a time - someone you hold very dear, and it will cause you much grief._

"No," he breathed, too softly for Daphne to hear. "Not you."

Daphne turned to Harry, and her eyes were almost regretful. If Harry hadn't just watched her kill a man in cold blood, he might have thought there were tears in them.

"If it could have been anyone, it would have been you," the girl murmured, and Harry was suddenly reminded that she was only thirteen. She looked so young and vulnerable for a moment. Then she straightened, and wiped her bloody palms on her robes.

"We will meet again someday," Daphne promised, walking towards the window. "This fight isn't over. Today is just the beginning. I'll be there when you need me. Until then, live well Harry Potter. Live well, Stefan Skorik."

"Wait!" Harry said. "Where are you going to go?"

Daphne's lips quirked again. "Where nobody will look for me," she said calmly.

The blonde girl stepped onto the windowsill, and looked outside. There seemed to be a crowd below who shouted when they saw her.

"There! Look!"

Daphne didn't look back as she stepped over the edge. For a moment she fell, her body twisting gracefully towards the ground like a broken bird. Then she vanished, seconds before hitting the ground.

"That damn portkey," Stefan snorted tearfully, wiping his eyes hastily with the back of his hand. "She always had too much of a flair for the dramatic."

Harry privately agreed. His head was reeling from what had just happened. Daphne was gone. He shook his head, unable to process it. Too much had happened that night.

"She'll come back," Stefan said, reading Harry's mind.

"You're right," Harry agreed. "Come on mate, let's get out of here," he said, putting an arm over Stefan's shoulders. "Leave the bodies for the aurors to clean up. I don't know about you, but I'm in sore need of a shower."

\\\/

 **I actually wrote this scene with Daphne a long time ago, and I've been waiting to slot it in place. She's gone for now, and it needed to be that way, but she'll be back in a few years. Prizes for anyone who can guess where she has gone.**

 **I had a few comments for the last chapter along the lines of " why didn't they just ennervate the adults," etc. The reason is that they're kids, and Ron and Stefan haven't been trained to think analytically in stressful situations like Harry has. They were just following Harry's orders as closely as they could.**

 **Also don't think Voldie went down too easy. Don't forget he was barely alive, and not able to properly defend himself. A fully reborn V-mort would have ended VERY differently.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	42. Chapter 42

**Year Two**

 **Chapter Twenty Four**

 **\\\/**

"Harry!"

The portkey spun Harry violently into the dining room of Storm Cottage, and he was gasping for breath when he heard his name called. He had less than a moment's warning before he was hit in the chest as someone hurled themselves at him. He staggered backwards almost falling over, before the person pulled back.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

Hermione had already tackled Stefan, who had just appeared beside him, and was looking similarly taken aback. Harry looked around the pretty room helplessly, and saw Ron and Neville sitting at the polished dining room table, both laughing like their sides would split at his nonplussed face.

"Neville? Ron? We thought you were at St Mungo's!"

"Nah, Sirius and Remus had us woken up and checked over, then Tonks sprung us out before Dumbledore could get hold of us."

"So you're alright?" Harry asked, looking his three friends up and down for marks but seeing nothing. They were all dressed in clean robes, and looked showered and fresh with wet hair plastered to their heads.

"It was the robes Harry," Hermione said, her voice cracking as she released Stefan reluctantly. "The _Uchawi Pamba_ robes. We would have been dead if that spell had hit us without them."

Harry stared at her pink, earnest face, and then sank into a chair, his heart pounding. The events of the night seemed to have all happened so quickly they had blurred together, and the real danger his friends had been in was only now dawning upon him.

"I can't believe you almost died. What was I thinking, bringing you to that place!?"

"Stop it," Ron said, clipping Harry lightly around the head with the back of his hand. "None of that. We talked about it before you arrived, and all of us would do it again in a second. Now what happened after we left?"

"We were so worried," Hermione said tearfully. "One moment there were Death Eaters everywhere, next we were waking up in hospital and Remus was telling us to stay calm."

"He said you, Kingsley and Mad-Eye went to find Voldemort," Ron said in a hushed voice. "Is it true? Was he there?"

Harry and Stefan glanced at each other, and Harry groaned. His head was aching and he was exhausted, he hadn't slept in nearly twenty four hours, but he knew his friends deserved an explanation. They had followed him willingly onto the battlefield and paid a price for it. He was lucky the price hadn't been heavier.

Slowly and painstakingly Harry began to lay out everything that had happened down in the dark chamber below the Manor. When he described how Voldemort had looked, Hermione actually let out a little scream. Ron looked most interested in Harry's descriptions of the spell configurations the four defenders had been using, while Neville was more concerned that nobody had been harmed.

"And Mad-Eye was hit in the face?" Hermione said thickly, raising her trembling hands to her mouth. "Is he alright?"

"We don't know yet," Harry said heavily. "Kingsley and Snape took him to St Mungo's."

"Hang on - what was Snape doing there?" Ron asked sharply.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Marley. The little house elf was overwhelmed to see Harry back safe and well, and hugged his legs for several minutes before Harry could convince him he was completely fine. Then Marley disappeared to the kitchen, promising to return with hot drinks for the 'heroes.'

With growing weariness, Harry explained to his friends what had happened after the figure of Voldemort had been destroyed, trying not to add in too many details. But he knew he must have been unsuccessful when Hermione turned a pale shade of green. Perhaps he shouldn't have added in the description of the flaming body shredding itself into ashes.

"So he's…dead?" Hermione whispered. "Just like that?"

"I wish," Harry said heavily. "I wish it was that easy. But right after his body died, he was right in front of me. But it wasn't him, it was like a ghost - like, like some kind of spirit. It spoke to me."

"What did it say" Neville squeaked.

Harry grimaced. "It said _I'll be back, Harry Potter._ Or something along those lines. It was inside my _head_."

Harry's friends all stared at him wordlessly. Hermione looked as though she might be sick. Harry groaned, and stood up again. He walked across the dining room to the window, and leaned his head against the cool panes. Outside the sea was churning its usual morning pattern across the sand, and watching the endless waves calmed him.

"I think this is how he survived when I was a baby," Harry said, his voice muffled by the glass. "It's like...when his body dies, somehow he doesn't die."

"But that's impossible," Hermione whispered. "Only ghosts stay on earth, and they can't rebuild themselves a body like the one you fought with tonight!"

"Well somehow...he did," Harry said, pressing his hands flat against the glass. "And if he did it once I bet he can do it again. Especially now Crouch is Minister of Magic."

"Wait, hold up," Ron said abruptly. "You said Crouch was dead. He's alive? He's Minister of Magic?"

Harry looked pleadingly at Stefan, who smiled reassuringly at him, and took up the thread of the story.

"It is like this," Stefan began. "Have you heard of this potion, Polyjuice?"

Harry rated his head in the table while Stefan explained, hearing his friends gasp and exclaim over his head. He was so tired he didn't want to think about any of it. Not what it meant that a death eater was posing as Minister of Magic, or that Voldemort might be able to come back again. He was worried about Mad-Eye, fearful for Daphne, and dreading the upcoming conversation with Dumbledore. Yet in spite of it all -

"Hey!" Harry gasped, suddenly sitting bolt upright. Stefan paused in his description of Daphne's flight, and looked after him curiously.

"I've just realised my head doesn't hurt anymore!"

"Those terrible headaches you had this year?" Stefan asked, looking at him with concern. "They have stopped?"

"Yeah," Harry said, shaking his head experimentally. "They must have been connected to Voldemort having a body again. Now...it's like I can breathe again. I can _think_ again. Merlin, I didn't realise how foggy my head was until it stopped!"

Harry looked around, marvelling at how clear everything seemed. In the aftermath of the battle he had barely noticed anything had changed, but now it felt as though a veil had lifted from over his eyes. Only then did he realise how clogged his thoughts had been by the debilitating headaches and nightmares.

"I can _think_ ," Harry said happily, shaking his head again. "It's back!"

"You _have_ been walking around in a bit of a dream all year," Neville commented. "We were really worried about you."

"I can't believe I didn't tell anyone except you," Harry said, pressing his fingers to his temples. "Do you think that could have been a part of it? It was like a force pressing down on me, making me want to keep it to myself."

"It sounds like someone had a spell on you," Hermione said, regarding Harry with her head on one side. "Maybe not even deliberately, maybe it was just some kind of curse connected to your scar, making you act funny."

"I don't know," Harry said, tilting his head on one side thoughtfully. "But it's gone now."

\\\/

Harry slept almost all day, and woke up in the late afternoon when the sun was setting over the ocean. He sat up in bed rubbing his eyes, feeling the rush of memories flood back to him. It was the a novel sensation, to wake without feeling like a hammer had been pounding at his skull all night. Only now he felt well again did he realised how bad his year had been.

Downstairs he could hear voices, and he slipped his robes on before padding downstairs.

"Harry! You're awake."

Kingsley was sitting at the kitchen table with Remus and Sirius, all of them nursing tankards of butterbeer. Kingsley looked haggard and exhausted, but his face crinkled up into a beam when he saw Harry, and he rose to give him a hug.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Ron, Neville and Hermione are next door with Nicholas and Perenelle, looking at some rather unusual plants. Stefan is still asleep I believe. We are keeping you all here until we can meet with Dumbledore, as I will _not_ have him interrogating any of you."

Harry nodded, then hesitated. "And how is...how is…"

"Alastor is going to make a full recovery," Kingsley said, interpreting Harry's half-statement correctly. But as Harry sighed with relief, he raised a hand.

"But there were some complications."

"Complications?"

Kingsley sighed, and he rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Alastor took a cutting curse to the face, and it removed a lots of skin and tissue. It also caused him to lose his remaining eye."

"His - _eye_?"

"Yes. Alastor can no longer rely on his regular eye. He is, for all intents and purposes...well, he's blind."

"But he has a magic eye!" Harry said wildly. "He can get another one, can't he?"

"Sit down Harry," Remus suggested, pulling out a chair beside him and patting it. "You've had a long night."

"Can he get another magical eye?" Harry repeated.

Kingsley sighed. "Unfortunately Alastor's magical eye was….well, it was one of a kind. And it was also destroyed by the spell."

"Why can't he get another one?" Harry asked, hearing his words all jumble together. He couldn't bear the thought that anything might happen to his oldest mentor.

"It's complicated Harry," Remus broke in kindly. "The original eye was a gift from a very talented spellweaver who is no longer among us. The method he used to make it was not recorded."

"Damn it!" Harry banged his palm on the table, feeling his eyes leaking. "It's not fair!"

"No," Sirius agreed, putting a warm, solid arm around Harry. "No it isn't. But we have to make the best of things, and you can be certain Alastor will."

"Blind though?" Harry choked. "It's like some sick joke. Hasn't he lost enough of his body?"

"That is precisely why Alastor will cope so well," Kingsley said, clapping his hands together. "I am not trying to underplay what will be a challenging adaption for him, but I know Alastor of old. He will come out of this stronger, and no doubt with a few extra senses on top."

\\\/

The next morning the students prepared to return to Hogwarts. Kingsley had reassured Harry that he had spoken with Professor Dumbledore, explained all the necessary details, and that the students would not be bothered by him or any other member of staff.

"Are you sure?" Harry had asked warily. "I can't imagine Dumbledore just accepted that."

"Severus helped," Kingsley had admitted. "He backed up my full account, and told Dumbledore that you'd been through enough."

"Snape said that?"

"He did. I think you've earned his admiration Harry."

It was hard to believe that only two days had passed by the time they lined up by the fireplace in the library of Storm Cottage. Remus had informed them that they would be flooing directly to his office, before their teacher disappeared shortly after breakfast to get back to his classes.

"Ready to go Harry?" Kingsley asked, giving him a searching look.

"Yeah," Harry smiled. "Only a month of school left. I can do that."

"I'll see you at the end of term then," Kingsley smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to see if your friends would enjoy a return to Uganda."

"I'll find out," Harry promised. Behind him, Ron, Neville and Hermione were all nodding frantically. Stefan looked intrigued.

Harry stepped into the fireplace and took a handful of floo powder.

"Professor Lupin's office, Hogwarts!"

\\\/

After the floo had regurgitated them into Remus's office, Harry and his companions walked straight down to the Great Hall for lunch, conversing about unrelated topics as they wandered through the halls. There would be time enough for proper discussion later. When they pushed open the doors to the great hall it was like walking into a hurricane.

"You're back! Oh, you're back!"

All five second years stopped and stared, as Ginny and Luna jumped from their seats and sprinted up the gap between the tables in the great hall. Heads turned from all sides, and Professor McGonagall pursed her lips up at the top table.

Ginny and Luna launched themselves at the five, who found themselves having to reassure two very worried first years.

"Come on," Harry said, jerking his head. "Let's get outside. We can't talk in here." He had seen the piercing look Professor Dumbledore was shooting at them all.

Out on the grounds Ginny was a nervous ball of energy.

"And we waited, we waited all night but you didn't come back and we were so worried. Remus said you were fine, but we didn't know what to do, we thought something might be wrong!"

Luna just tilted her head gently and asked. "Where's Daphne?"

Harry was pleased to see his friends again, but at the expectant looks on the faces of Ginny and Luna he groaned. Another round of explanations.

\\\/

Things settled down surprisingly quickly after that. The teachers began to remind them that exams were nearly upon them, and all seven students were studying hard.

It wasn't easy to forget the missing one among them though. The place where Daphne had been left a gap in their group that couldn't be filled. No one else was that acerbic, no one else had that wry humour. Harry often found himself wondering where she had gone, and had to talk himself out of sending her a letter. Her flight from the window had made the front page of the Prophet, and a full page article was run on her disappearance, and the implications when the body of her father found in the Manor. Her mother refused to comment.

Harry was finding it difficult to look anywhere near Malfoy or his friends anymore. He was dreading the moment he had to look into Goyle's face and know that he had murdered his father. But worse was the worry about Mad-Eye. One morning several weeks later, Vapour finally brought him some news.

"It's from Kingsley," Harry said eagerly, detaching the letter from Vapours leg. She leaned down to peck up some bacon, and dipped her tawny head to him before departing.

"What does it say?" Ron asked, buttering a third round of toast.

Harry unrolled the letter carefully, and squinted at the page of writing.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope this letter finds you and your friends well._

 _Alastor is being released from St Mungo's today. He has spent the last few weeks harassing the healers and making the other patients cry, and I believe they could take his presence no longer. He asks that I tell you to stop worrying, and that he is just fine. His actual words were "there's nothing worth looking at around here anyway." I hope that eases your mind somewhat._

 _Sirius is working on opening lines into the Ministry, but I will not say too much on that subject lest this letter fall into the wrong hands. There are already disturbing reports from other departments of our new Minister extending his influence in unsavoury ways. Watch out for a new book being released in a few weeks. The Ministry aren't openly associated with it, but they haven't banned it - which is a telling enough opening strike._

 _Please extend the offer to your friends to join us in Uganda this summer. I imagine you would all welcome a chance to take a break from our current climate, at least for a few weeks._

 _My best regards,_

 _Kingsley_

Harry burst out laughing. "Read this." He read the paragraph on Mad-Eye out loud, and his friends smiled.

"That's so Mad-Eye," Neville chuckled.

"What's this book though?" Hermione frowned, scanning the letter.

"I guess we'll find out soon," Harry said grimly. "Anyway, Uganda? How about it?"

Neville's face lit up, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Neville had been the friend who had changed the most over their last summer in Uganda. The acceptance he had found in Harry's village had gone a long way to building his confidence. Ron and Hermione also looked pleased.

"There's so much I didn't get to learn last time," Hermione said, her fingers twitching reflexively as though longing for a quill. "And I'll be allowed into the women's ceremonies this time!"

"Why weren't you last time?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

Hermione flushed crimson, and shook her head, seemingly unable to speak. Harry looked around his friends, bewildered, but they shook their heads looking as confused as he. After a moment Harry decided to let the matter drop, and Hermione looked very relieved.

\\\/

The rest of term passed by in a blur, until before they knew it the exams were upon them. Harry was dismayed to find that his marks had dropped somewhat over the year, and attributed it to the debilitating headaches he had been suffering from. Nonetheless he was hardly at risk of failing.

"I wonder how Daphne is going to take her exams," Hermione fretted anxiously. "She has to take them _somewhere._ Have you written to her Harry?"

"I have," Ginny broke in. "The owl came back with the letter unopened."

"She doesn't want to be found," Luna said serenely, closing her eyes. "Not yet."

All six of them glanced at each other, and then looked away. Luna was probably right. Harry felt horribly guilty for his position in the affair, and had been interviewed by Professor Snape about the encounter. But for the moment Daphne was nowhere to be found.

\\\/

Finally the day of their last exam dawned. They had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, and even as he left the room, Harry wasn't sure how good a showing he made. His cup and saucer were still twitching nervously when he finished, and he tried to ignore the whiskers.

"How do you think that went?" Hermione asked Harry, Neville, Ron and Stefan later that evening, as she arrived at the Slytherin common room. She was carrying an armful of heavy books, and looked exhausted.

"Fine," Stefan shrugged. "Except the silverware exercise. Instead of transfiguring the fork into a knife I turned it into a dagger."

"I think that says a lot about life hanging out with Harry," Neville said with a straight face. "My knife was serrated."

"Honestly," Hermione sighed, and Harry laughed.

"What are all those books for anyway?"

Hermione looked around. It was late in the evening and the Slytherin common room was deserted, but Hermione had never been entirely comfortable in the den of the snakes. It was for good reason too - any number of the Slytherin students would have happily cursed her if they hadn't known the consequences Harry, Ron and Stefan would bring down on their heads.

"I've been researching methods of immortality," Hermione whispered after a moment, leaning in. "After what happened with you-know-who at the Manor."

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking with interest at the dark patterned books. Now hermione had mentioned it they _did_ look distinctly unfriendly to his untrained eye.

"What have you found?"

Hermione grimaced. "There's some really horrible stuff in there. Awful rituals that ancient wizards used to try and make themselves immortal, but none of it looks like it actually _works._ And there's nothing to do with surviving after your body dies."

"Did you get them from the restricted section?" Neville asked, leaning in to have a look.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "I can't get access to there. Can you even imagine asking one of the teachers for permission?"

"Please Professor Flitwick," Ron imitated in a squeaky voice. "I really need to do some additional reading in the restricted section. You see I'm worried that I didn't put enough references to forbidden dark arts in my Charms exam, and I might not get higher than a ninety five score!"

"Oh do shut up Ron," Hermione scowled, lightly pushing the boy's shoulder and Harry and Stefan sniggered. "This is important!"

"Is is," Harry said, sobering immediately. "Kingsley and Mad-Eye must have some ideas though. We can talk to them during the summer."

"My parents have written to say I am welcome to spend the second half with you," Stefan said enthusiastically. "But they want me to go back to Norway for the first few weeks."

"That's great!" Harry grinned. "You'll be just in time for the end of the harvest. That's when all the best celebrations happen. What's about you guys?"

He turned to Ron, Hermione and Neville, and raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't we do the same?" Hermione suggested. "I haven't spoken to my parents yet, but we could all spend a couple of weeks at home with our families, and then the last month in Uganda."

"Works for me," Ron shrugged, and Neville nodded.

"Have you invited Luna?" Hermione asked, looking worried. Harry understood. Although Hermione was not the best of friends with Luna - he suspected his year mate found the younger girl's ethereal ways a little hard to swallow - they had all noticed Luna had withdrawn slightly in the absence of Daphne. She was spending more time with Ginny and Hermione, but the balance had been upset.

"I've invited her," Harry nodded. "But she's going away with her father overseas for a lot of the summer. She did say that she'd try and make it for a week at least."

"What are they looking for?" Neville grinned.

"I'm told it is a breed of species known as the Crumple Horned Snorkack," Harry said seriously, his lips twitching.

"Alright enough," Neville said, putting his hands up. "No making fun of Luna. She's one of ours after all, right?"

"One of ours," Harry agreed. And that was that.

\\\/

A week later the seven friends were all climbing on board the Hogwarts Express for the long journey back to London. Harry noticed several people eyeing them as they climbed on board, and it didn't surprise him. Ever since the news of the incident at Crouch Manor there had been speculation and rumour about their involvement. Nobody knew the truth, but everybody had something to say.

It wasn't just rumours though. Harry noticed his friends who had fought with him were carrying themselves differently. The transformation that had begun in the Chamber of Secrets with the girls was evolving to cover them all. They walked taller and with more confidence, and people began to step out of their way in the halls. He heard whispers that they had all faced Voldemort together, and didn't bother to correct the assumptions. The times ahead were going to be difficult enough. Any standing they could find amongst their peers could only be for the better.

"I can't believe we're nearly third years," Ron said sleepily, stretching out across two seats.

"You better believe it," Ginny said, poking her brother with her foot. "And I'll be a second year next term."

"The workload is going to increase so much next year," Hermione said, looking harried as she pulled out a notebook and jotted something down. "We have so much more to do!"

"Relax Hermione," Neville said soothingly. "I know you're a Ravenclaw and all, but don't work yourself into the ground. We've got the whole summer ahead of us. No need to worry so much."

"He's right," Luna said dreamily, her face hidden behind a copy of the Quibbler. "I'm a Ravenclaw too, and I know we're supposed to be studious. But the summer is about learning about life, not just books."

"That made an awful lot of sense," Hermione said, looking at Luna with a surprise that wasn't entirely complimentary.

"And Harry's tribe is going to work us into the ground once we get to Uganda," Ron finished with a wink, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket. "Not to mention they don't sell British sweets there. So enjoy the relaxation before we get shipped out to the middle of merlin-forsaken Africa!"

\\\/

When the Express belched the students out on the wide platform of Nine and Three Quarters, they stuck together through the melee. Harry couldn't help but notice that now it wasn't just the students staring at them. Adults were craning their heads to get a glimpse, and some of the pupils were pointing out the group to their families. Harry noticed the Malfoys at one end of the platform, and steered clear with a grimace. Although he felt guilty for the most part about the lives he had taken during the course of the battle, he was sure he could have made an exception for Lucius.

"Harry!"

Before Harry could catch his breath he was caught up in a fierce hug, and the smell of African spices and burnt ochre filled his nostrils.

"Kingsley! I missed you."

"Missed you too son," Kingsley said, releasing Harry at last and holding him at arm's length to look him over. When he was satisfied that Harry was undamaged he turned to his friends.

"Good to see you all again...and under better circumstances."

"Nice to see you Mr Shacklebolt," Hermione said politely, but nobody else stood on ceremony. Harry was surprised to see Neville hugging Kingsley, and remembered that his father had spent a lot of time with the other boy the previous summer. He didn't feel jealous at all. Neville needed someone like Kingsley to fill that space in his life.

"So you're all joining us in a few weeks?" Kingsley confirmed, looking around the group. Everyone nodded back at him, and Ron was smiling broadly.

"Can't wait!"

"It'll be good to have you back," the tall auror smiled warmly. "As well as to meet your sister and new friends for the first time."

"Good to meet you," Ginny said confidently, extending her hand. Kingsley took it, looking rather amused.

Before long Molly and Arthur Weasley were bustling up with the rest of their offspring to see where their two missing youngest children had ended up. Fred and George were in tow along with Percy, who glared at Harry.

 _Oops._ Harry remembered too late the incident in the hallway the day before the battle. He had lied to Percy in order to break the rules. Clearly the prefect had discovered that lie. _Never mind. No time to worry about it now. I'll deal with it next year._

"Molly, Arthur," Kingsley said warmly, greeting them like old friends.

For several minutes they exchanged pleasantries, and then the gradually Harry's friends trickled away with their families. Stefan's bodyguards arrived, and everyone took that as the signal to leave.

"See you soon!" Harry called as his friends left the platform.

"See you soon Harry!"

As they left Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and headed towards the apparation point, Harry grinned at Kingsley who was pushing his trolley.

"Are we going straight to Uganda?"

"We're stopping off to pick up Mad-Eye first, but then yes. Straight away."

"Perfect," Harry sighed. "A nice relaxing summer with no drama is just what I need."

\\\/

 **End of Year Two**

 **Year Three coming up! First year where I can completely go AWOL from canon, very excited.**

 **On another note, I've been working on another HP fic for a couple of months… (I hear you groan!) And I'm looking for a beta before I start posting. It's a 6th year onwards HGxDM story which diverges when Hermione is forcibly kidnapped by Death Eaters, raped, and finds herself pregnant. I can already see you're feeling cheerful and jolly at this plotline! Basically I'm trying to realistically portray Hermione's response to trauma with a close look at her psyche, build on the relationship with her parents, and blend the concept of a young woman unprepared for pregnancy and motherhood, with all the adventure and drama of the unfolding war. And I'm throwing in a damaged Draco, messed up from the act he didn't want to commit.**

 **I promise it's not actually a miserable story though! More about family, loyalty, adventure, and the unshakeable bond between mother and child. So if anyone fancies giving me a hand with it, send me a message or review, and I'll get back to you. If it doesn't sound like your cup of tea, no worries. TBE is still my priority.**

 **See you soon for year three!**

 **Cas**


	43. Chapter 43

**Year Three**

 **Chapter One**

\\\/

Everything was dark.

The absence of vision was both suffocating and liberating, transforming light and colour into an empty abyss. It was like having your eyes closed, but being unable to open them. Trapped, yet free. Bound, yet unconstrained.

Now if only those damn Africans would stop twittering so loudly at the next table, Mad-Eye might have been able to actually make headway in non-visually assessing the room. So far he'd only managed to lock in on two emergency exits, and one of them involved going over a balcony to an indeterminate landing.

"Are you alright?"

A light touch on the back of his hand.

It was Harry. The boy was unmistakable - he had young hands with slender fingers, and the palms were soft from a full year of wielding nothing but a wand. By the time September rolled around after a few months of bringing in the cotton harvest, the hard callouses would have re-asserted themselves once more.

"I'm fine," Mad-Eye grunted. He scowled in what he hoped was the right direction.

"The restaurant is a bit busy at this time of night. We don't have to order food - should we just get a drink and come back another time?"

"Don't be daft," Mad-Eye snorted. "I didn't trek all the way out into Muggle Uganda for a decent meal only to leave because of some blathering."

There was silence for a moment, as though the other occupants of the table were exchanging glances.

Mad-Eye hated the silence almost as much as he hated the noise. Two weeks in Uganda, and they were all still so damned _careful_ around him, as if they thought he was going to snap and start blasting curses at them any minute. If they didn't start acting normally he probably would.

"Would you like me to read you the menu?"

That was the werewolf. Without the distraction of his homely face, the animal smell was becoming clearer. It was something between earth, salty blood, and sharp rosemary. Mad-Eye found it the most distinct scent of those around him, and was pleased when the voice confirmed that, as he had suspected, Lupin was sitting on his right.

"I suppose," Mad-Eye muttered ungraciously.

Lupin read clearly, he had to admit that. Much better than his canine lover, certainly. Black always threw in his own comments when he was reading out loud, until it made Mad-Eye wish the man had been guilty; so he could be justified in cursing him into oblivion.

Mad-Eye placed his order and descended into silence as he listened to the conversation flow around him. The muggle restaurant in Kampala was a safe place away from magical ears, and the subtle muffliato charm cast by Black ensured the muggles around them didn't overhear anything they ought not to.

"What does it mean though?" Harry asked, responding to a sentence Mad-Eye had missed. He sounded worried, the edge in his voice something Mad-Eye was slowly beginning to identify.

"It means Crouch - and by extension Voldemort - is being clever," Kingsley said in his deep, smooth voice. There was a thump, as something both soft and hard hit the table. Cautiously Mad-Eye extended a hand in the direction of the noise. His fingers met hard edges and smooth crisp dryness.

It was the book.

" _Grindelwald: Murderer or Messiah?_ " Harry read out loud. "Is it at least a good read?"

"It's well written," Lupin conceded. "But that's the point. It's propaganda."

"I just don't understand," Harry admitted. "Why would people try and make Grindelwald look good now?"

There was a tapping noise, and Mad-Eye suspected Harry was rapping his fingers impatiently on the table.

"It's like this," Sirius broke in. "It's an opening move. There's no point in glorifying Grindelwald now - he's in Nurmengard, and isn't getting out. By all accounts he's nearly dead. But this opens the public up to the concept that a mass murderer, another _Dark Lord_ , might be more than he seems on the surface."

"That's subtle," Harry said. There was a rustle, and Mad-Eye imagined him opening the book. "How can we even be sure this is Crouch's work? Surely it could just be an overzealous historian with creepy views on blood purity?"

"It was published by _Marvel and Foy Publishing Inc,"_ Mad-Eye interjected with a growl. "A new publishing company based in London; this is their first book. And nobody can get anywhere near the building they operate from."

"Marvolo and Malfoy," Kingsley translated. "Lucius and Voldemort. It's the only explanation."

"Are you sure?" Harry sounded doubtful. "That seems like a big leap."

"Look at the author," Sirius directed. There was another rustle of pages.

" _Oh_."

"Thomas M Rivers. Exactly." Kingsley said with a sigh. "There's no doubt. And they don't care if we figure it out."

Their conversation was interrupted when the food arrived. Mad-Eye heard Kingsley quickly cancel the Muffliato, and then the clink of plates as the waiter or waitress set down the food in front of them. He grimaced. Maneuvering his way around a knife and fork was one of Mad-Eye's biggest grievances with his new life.

But then there were also advantages. He leaned closer to his plate and sniffed suspiciously, noting that the food smelt like spices and earth and sweetness, but there was no telltale trace of poison. His improved sense of smell came in useful in lots of ways.

"Do you need help cutting up your food Alastor?"

That was the werewolf again. Always so infernally, interminably _helpful._

"No thank you," Mad-Eye said ungraciously, hacking blindly at the food on his plate. "I am perfectly capable of shovelling food into my own mouth Lupin."

"Of course," Lupin said quickly, and Mad-Eye imagined him withdrawing a helpful hand.

That was the problem with being blind. It wasn't not being able to see anything, or running the risk of walking into objects. A supersensory charm took care of that. It was the fact that suddenly people who had worked alongside him and looked up to him for years were treating him like an invalid. And _that_ had Mad-Eye in a temper.

As far as he was concerned, this was a gift. Mad-Eye could already feel his other senses developing far beyond their original capabilities. The next question would be what his _magic_ could do.

\\\/

A few days later and Harry was back in the fields with the boys he had grown up with, working hard to bring in the harvest. It was easier in the cool of the morning, but became harder as the day wore on.

By lunchtime Harry was feeling the burn. He bent over and crouched to the ground, panting heavily as the sweat dripped down his back. His black sleeveless linen robes kept him cooler than Wizarding robes would have in the hot African summer, but nothing could fully alleviate the scorching sun.

The young man working beside Harry passed him a gourd of water. Harry straightened and drank the cool liquid gratefully, before tipping the dregs over his head, shaking his hair wildly. Now he was back in Uganda he wore his dreadlocks loosely around his face, and the water trickled down the black ropes to drip from the ends.

"Thanks Lubiyo **,** " Harry said with relief. "I've gotten soft in England, I can't keep up!"

"Don't be silly," Lubiyo said, taking the gourd back and tapping a rune near the neck to activate the refilling charm. "We're all struggling on a day like this."

Harry nodded, and looked out across the baking fields of the _Uchawi Pamba_ harvest. The spiky plants were being slowly but surely harvested by the villagers, and the row of black men spread out across the fields resembled a line of dominoes. Sweating, shiny dominoes.

"Better get back to work," Harry said a moment later, adjusting the rough hessian sack he wore over one shoulder. It was half full already with the thick cotton balls, but the midday sun was overhead and he had another two sacks to fill before nightfall, if he wanted to keep up with the other men.

"What's the matter pup? Are you slacking?"

Harry turned to the left at the cheerful mocking voice, and grinned at his godfather. Sirius was sweating even more heavily than Harry in his linen tunic, and stopping every five minutes to push the wet hair out of his face. Beside him Remus was a powerhouse, working harder and faster than anybody else on the field as his werewolf muscles came into play.

"You're one to talk Sirius," Harry shouted easily. "What's Remus picked now? Three times the amount you have?"

"Get back to work," Remus said, looking amused. Even as he spoke his hands kept moving, wrenching the spiky plants up by the roots and detaching the cotton balls from their nests.

For another hour or so Harry laboured alongside the other men of the village, in the same way that he had for the past couple of weeks. Like the last summer it had taken a week or so for the villagers to stop staring at him and treat him as one of their own again, but once they started joking and teasing him, he felt that he was back in the fold.

In spite of Harry and his friends taking part in daily workout sessions at Hogwarts, nothing could fully prepare the body for full-time labour except actually _doing_ it. Harvesting was hard, tough work that needed everyone to help. If the Namiya Village didn't get their quota of cotton sent to the buyers on time they would lose money, and the whole village would be unable to buy essential items and food for the Winter season.

Harry enjoyed the mindless, peaceful quality of the summer work. He had grown up helping with the harvest; it was as natural and familiar to him as the changing of the seasons. After the year he had just experienced, coming back to the unchanging little village was like sloughing a skin.

A few hours later and Harry was hot, exhausted and blistered. But he had filled three bags of cotton, and was ready to pack in the work for the day.

"Aren't you done yet?!"

That was Sirius again.

"Slap him Remus," Harry called, and the werewolf broke away from his picking to backhand Sirius with a grin.

Harry laughed at the indignation on his godfather's face, and let his sack drop to the ground with a sigh of relief. The sun was a burning red ball that was just dipping down below the horizon, and all across the fields the line of workers were dropping their loads and stretching their aching backs.

"I'm glad that's over for today," Lubiyo sighed, wringing out a wet cloth and draping it over his dark, glistening, shaven head. He was a tall and gangly boy a few years older than Harry, but with with muscles that made his presence more than worthwhile.

"Only another few weeks," Harry said, straight-faced. Lubiyo groaned, and so did Sirius and Remus.

"Come on," Harry said, hauling his sack off the ground and onto his shoulder again. "Everyone's leaving."

It was true, the line of workers had formed a large laughing group of smiling faces, and they were beginning to head back to the village. Harry and the others quickly caught them up, and fell in with the familiar end of the day banter. The route back to the village was long and winding, but songs and talk made it pass quickly.

The workers cast their full sacks in a pile in the open circular courtyard in the centre of the village, for processing later by the women and children. Then the men slowly began to meander back towards their individual family dwellings. Harry walked on faster than Sirius and Remus, anxious to see if Kingsley was home yet

He heard the raised voices before he saw them.

"You think? You think? Tch, blindness is not an excuse, what kind of people do you think we are!?"

Harry arrived back at Bibi's earthen hut to the sound of raised voices. He grinned in anticipation - it sounded like Bibi and Mad-Eye were arguing again.

All throughout his village childhood, the clashes between the matriarch and the aging Auror had been legendary. Bibi could give as good as she got, and she had never quite forgiven Mad-Eye for luring Kingsley away to England to be an Auror. Mad-Eye was just, well, crotchety at the best of times.

"Silence woman," Mad-Eye growled, as Harry pulled back the hanging curtain in the doorway and peered into the spacious round room.

Mad-Eye and Bibi were facing off across the fire. It was like David and Goliath; the tiny, plump, black woman against the tall, imposing auror with the foreboding visage - and the grotesquely empty eye sockets.

Bibi had her arms folded, and had to tilt her head almost backwards to look up at Mad-Eye, who was scowling somewhere off to the right of the grandmother.

"You think that now you can sit on my cushions all day hm? Ignore my daughter, ignore my grandchildren? Speak no words to Bibi, make no offer to help?"

"I was busy with things you cannot comprehend," Mad-Eye snarled, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Busy, tch! Such excuses you white men make. Do you see any of our village people enjoying such luxury?"

" _Luxury_!" Mad-Eye fumed. "I can't _see,_ woman!"

"Eyes not needed to stir pot," Bibi countered. "No sight required to talk to children. You, you are just….so _English._ "

Bibi put her hands on her hips triumphantly as though she had delivered a great insult, glaring up at the man towering above her. Harry put his hands over his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. He knew that by tomorrow all would be forgotten, and that the pair both enjoyed their arguments far more than either would admit.

"Evening," Harry said, entering the hut as though he had just arrived. Remus and Sirius followed behind him, sniffing eagerly at the air.

Bibi's face immediately broke into a beam as she saw them, and she hurried over to take the swinging water gourd's from their shoulder straps.

" _Mjukuu_! Come in, come in. Food will be ready soon, sit down and rest!"

"Thanks Bibi," Sirius said, sinking down on one of the deep red cushions that lined the walls of the large round room. Both men had adopted the name Bibi for the older woman, and Harry often wondered if they realised it simply meant grandmother.

"Something smells good," Harry added, unfastening the thick snakeskin belt that held the folds and pockets of his linen robes in place during the day.

"Goat stew," Bibi promised, waving her wand vaguely in the direction of the pot over the fire. "For the men who _have_ been working hard all day."

The latter was accompanied with a nasty glare at Mad-Eye, who of course could see nothing of it. The auror was still scowling in the middle of the room, and abruptly turned and stalked out of the hut. In spite of his blindness Mad-Eye had an unerring ability to avoid objects on the floor, and not collide with walls.

"Good riddance," Bibi scowled.

"What happened?" Harry asked curiously.

Before Bibi could answer, a deeper male voice sounded behind them. "Perhaps I can answer that."

Harry turned to see Kingsley stooping to enter the narrow hut doorway, still wearing his British Wizarding robes. Kingsley had been travelling backwards and forwards between Britain and Uganda all summer, afraid to leave the Ministry unattended in the absence of Mad-Eye.

"We had some news this morning," Kingsley continued, looking grave. "Alastor has been officially retired from his position as Head of the Auror Office, on the grounds of age and health."

"Damn," Harry winced. They had all known it was coming, but it must have been a blow to Mad-Eye. He had been Head of Department for over a decade, and held the best arrest record the Ministry had ever had.

"Who's replacing him?" Remus asked worriedly, setting some water to boil for tea, and pulling out a selection of painted mugs from the bright yellow cupboards that lined the walls.

"Alastor was able to submit his recommendations for his replacement before he left," Kingsley said, scratching his head awkwardly. "His vote carried a lot of weight with the panel."

"Go on," Sirius said, beginning to smile.

"No," Harry said, smiling broadly. "Really?"

"Yes," Kingsley said, his cheek muscles twitching in spite of his attempts to remain serious. "It's me."

"Congratulations," Harry said, jumping up to hug Kingsley. Bibi fussed around, patting Kingsley's back and adjusting his robes, all the while beaming with pride.

"That's my boy, my son," the older woman clucked with delight. "You show them how it's done!"

"Please," Kingsley said after a few minutes. "Don't forget Alastor. If it wasn't for his injury, he'd still be holding that position. This isn't easy for him."

They all sobered immediately. It was hard to know how best to help Mad-Eye adjust to his new sightless world.

St Mungo's had offered rehabilitation therapy that Mad-Eye had absolutely refused, and any further suggestions had met with deaf ears. Instead he seemed content to spend hours upon hours in silent contemplation, occasionally twitching or muttering something under his breath. Nobody was able to make out the half of what he was doing, and no explanations were forthcoming.

"Tea?" Remus asked, breaking the silence. He held up the kettle questioningly.

"Please," Kingsley sighed, sinking onto a cushion and slipping off his boots. He began to shrug off his outer robe, and then paused.

"Harry I almost forgot, I have a letter for you. The owl caught me at Storm Cottage, probably trying to avoid a trip across the ocean. Clever birds, owls."

"Who's it from?" Harry asked curiously. He knew nothing dangerous would have gotten past Kingsley.

"I believe it is from your friend Neville."

\\\/

That evening, over the delicious goat stew prepared by Bibi and her daughter Nabirye, Mad-Eye noticed Harry was very silent. Nobody else seemed to - the chatter was interminable and never stopped beating upon his skull - but Mad-Eye heard the gap in the conversation where the boy's voice usually was.

He slurped chunks of tender meat directly from the bowl, ignoring the tuts from the interfering grandmother next to him, and listened harder for what the boy was _not_ saying.

It was in that manner that he was able to discern the slight jiggle of Harry's knee that was making the table leg vibrate slightly, or the clink when he put his bowl down a little harder than necessary. Experimentally he tried reaching out with his mind, extending the tendrils that he had been practising with all day. Unfortunately when he reached for Harry he hit nothing but a mental brick wall that gave him a headache.

Typical. Bloody Africans. All of them the same, mental blocks a mile high. Mad-Eye vaguely remembered Kingsley explaining when Harry was younger that all the Ugandan children developed a natural occlumency to avoid getting in trouble for petty misdeeds with their parents. Right now he could have done without the stupid thing.

"Potter," Mad-Eye said briskly, during a break in the conversation.

"Mad-Eye?" Harry asked curiously. "Is everything alright?"

Mad-Eye restrained his urge to snap at the boy, because he knew no faster way than to make him shut down. The only way to get answers was to be civil, even though all he wanted was to find out exactly what was wrong, so he could fix it as soon as possible.

"Fine. Now what's the matter with you?"

He did attempt to be subtle, but heavy-handed was his standard modus operandi.

"Nothing," Harry said unconvincingly.

"Harry?" The werewolf joined in. "Now Mad-Eye mentions it, you've been very quiet tonight. Are you sure you're alright?"

Harry sighed heavily, and the table fell silent. "I didn't want to bother anyone," he started. "Because we've got enough to worry about at the moment. It's just my letter from Neville."

"What's wrong with Longbottom?" Mad-Eye growled.

"It's his parents," Harry said hesitantly. "They're not doing very well. His grandmother has all but taken up residence in the hospital to watch over them, and he's really struggling."

"Are they going to die?" Mad-Eye asked bluntly, ignoring the kick that came from Sirius's direction under the table.

"They don't think so," Harry answered. "But they seem to have picked up some kind of infection. It's treatable, but the treatment is taking its toll, and Neville's Gran won't take him with her all the time. She says spending all day at the hospital is no place for a growing boy."

"She's right," Kingsley approved. "But it can't be easy for them. Who is looking after Neville?"

"Well that's just the thing."

A pause, and Mad-Eye imagined Harry shrugging awkwardly. "Nobody is. I think he's on his own most of the day."

"That's not easy for a young boy," Remus observed. "Especially one like Neville."

"I know," Harry said miserably. "And I was wondering if I should go back to England to keep him company. "

Immediately there was an outpouring of denials around the table. Kingsley was trying to calmly explain why it wasn't safe, but his words were being cut off by Sirius loudly proclaiming Harry would leave so soon over his dead body. Above the din, the bloody grandmother could be heard screeching like a banshee about how he'd barely just arrived.

It was giving Mad-Eye a headache.

"Alright, alright," Harry said loudly, to make himself heard over the din. "It was just an idea!"

"Your loyalty becomes you," Remus said quickly. "But the state of things in England is very wobbly at the moment. With Crouch posing as Minister, Malfoy still on the loose in the Ministry, and goodness knows how many other Death Eaters running aorund...well it's just not safe, especially since Kingsley is at work all day, and Mrs Longbottom would be at the hospital."

"I just feel sorry for Neville," Harry said softly.

Mad-Eye heard Harry scuffing his bare toes in the dirt, and imagined the pensive look on his face. If the old auror had still had eyes in his head he would have rolled them. The boy was doing a classic job at manipulating his father, and Mad-Eye had seen him do it a thousand times. Kingsley was a brilliant auror, but he had a blind spot a mile wide when it came to his adopted son.

And three...two...one...

"Why doesn't Neville come to us?" Kingsley asked suddenly. "It's only a week or so before he was coming to visit us anyway, and we've certainly got the room."

"Really?" Harry asked, his voice suddenly perky again.

Mad-Eye wished once more he had eyes to roll. The boy was spending far too much time with the Slytherins.

"Yes why not," Kingsley said mildly. "We'd all be very pleased to have Neville with us."

\\\/

Neville felt as though his face was going to split in half from smiling when he received Harry's letter. He wasted no time in persuading his grandmother to take time out from her hospital visits to organise things with Kingsley, and before he knew it he was taking an international portkey to Uganda.

Although he was unhappy to leave his parents when they were unwell, Neville knew that sitting around at home was doing nothing for either them or him. And if anything in their condition changed, it was only a short trip back.

The portkey disgorged him in a leafy park, near the portal to Magical Uganda. Even though they were still on the muggle side of the shimmering border, the heat and dryness that was uniquely Africa was already making his blood thrum and his magic tingle.

"You alright?" Kingsley asked, looking him up and down as though checking no parts of him had been left behind.

"Fine," Neville smiled broadly. "Thank you so much for picking me up."

"Harry insisted," Kingsley said, his white teeth gleaming in his dark face. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you until after work."

"Don't mention it," Neville said immediately. "I know things have been...difficult."

"Yes," Kingsley said, glancing around the darkening park. "We can talk more about that later, but we better get through the portal. Better safe than sorry."

Neville nodded and picked up his case. He had already changed into the light, flowing African robes he had worn the previous summer. He was slightly chagrined to see that he had to let out the snakeskin belt another buttonhole from the previous summer, and the muscular physique he had returned from Uganda with last time had softened somewhat over the year.

The man and the boy nodded to each other, and then stepped through the shimmering sheen of light in front of them. For a long moment it felt as though cool water was washing over Neville's shoulders, and he shuddered slightly. Then he was stepping into the blazing sunshine.

Neville took a deep breath of the warm fragrant air, and felt his spirits lift so high he was surprised he didn't rise off the ground. Spread out before him was the rich green valley he had become so familiar with the previous summer, and nestled at the bottom was the rustic, welcoming, Namiya Village. The roof's of the red earthen huts looked like jewels clustered at the foot of the valley, and already he was itching to get down there.

"Welcome back," Kingsley said with a wide smile, watching Neville closely.

"Thank you," Neville breathed.

It was hard to explain, his reaction to Uganda. Leaving after the summer had been a real wrench last year, and he had thought about the strange, far away country many times during year at school. Maybe it was the simple fact that he had been welcomed there, and judged not for his magical ability; not for his strength; and not because of who his parents had been - but simply for his willingness to assist and take part in normal village life. And instead of the austere, strict Longbottom manor, or the stressful atmosphere at Hogwarts, it was a place where he had found himself able to fully relax.

"Wait a minute," Neville told Kingsley, as the older man began to walk towards the narrow winding track that led down to the village.

Neville didn't want to return to the place that had made him feel so much at home, still wearing his English garb. It was why he had changed into his African robes after all - he didn't want to be a stranger anymore. Neville hesitated for a moment, and then smiled. He reached down and unlaced his boots, stepping out of them and then tying their laces securely to his case.

Neville stood back up with a grin, as Kingsley smiled amusedly at him. He wriggled his toes in the hot red earth, rolled his bare shoulders under the heat of the sun, and felt as though he had come home.

\\\/

A week later and Neville wasn't smiling quite so broadly anymore.

"Was it this bad last year?" Neville gasped, as Harry's Aunt Nabirye rubbed a soft paraffin paste into his reddened, blistered fingertips, and bound spiky green leaves over the top.

"Just as bad," Harry confirmed, pushing a cup of hot, sweet and milky tea across the table towards him.

They were sitting at one of the long wooden tables in the open circle at the centre of the village, with the remains of the previous night's fire pit beside them. The work was finished for the day, and most of the men had gone home to wash before the evening communal meal. Neville however was not so lucky.

"Don't you remember?" Harry asked with a smile. "Your hands were in a state for the whole first week last time too. Red, blisters everywhere. Same things happened to me a few weeks ago."

"Damn it," Neville winced, but the cooling effect of the leaves was beginning to work.

"Language," Nabirye chided, and Neville blushed.

Kingsley's sister was old enough to be his mother, but she was still a beautiful woman. And like most of the village women, she considered it perfectly natural to wander around wearing a woven skirt, a collection of heavy necklaces, and nothing whatsoever in between. Averting his eyes was a constant effort, made worse by Harry's complete indifference, and inclination to laugh at Neville's response.

"It'll feel better soon," Harry consoled. "Just give your hands time to toughen up. Take a day off if you want?"

"I'm not slacking," Neville protested.

Yesterday two of the Ugandan men working near Neville had taken it upon themselves to begin teaching him the traditional songs while they worked, and it had made the time fly by. The warmth of the acceptance was still glowing in his heart.

"No one could accuse you of that," Harry promised. "Right, Aunt Nabirye?"

"Of course _Mjukuu_ ," Nabirye said, ruffling Harry's dreadlocks. "Why don't you take Neville to Soroti? Of course you'll go again when your friends arrive, but it would be nice to have a boys day in the city together."

"What do you think Neville?" Harry's eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"I'd love to," Neville said, delighted. He didn't mention that incident with the vampire that had happened last time, for fear of Harry changing his mind. Besides, it was just the two of them this time.

"Perfect," Nabirye said, pushing her long dark braids away from her face as she cleaned up the remains of the healing leaves.

"I'm sure you boys will have lots of fun."

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	44. Chapter 44

**University holidays mean free time to write! Little one is almost walking though, so perhaps my blissful extra time won't last long. Better make the m** **ost of it.**

 **\\\/**

 **Year Three**

 **Chapter Two**

 **\\\/**

Harry really, really, loved the city of Soroti.

The sprawling, bustling city was a testament to the wonders of Magic, and he adored the hot, exotic atmosphere. From the loud market squares and the rustic street stalls selling hot food, all the way to the spiralling silver skyscrapers. It was exciting, and it was different.

"I'd forgotten how much fun the journey is," Neville commented happily as they walked down the main avenue, throngs of people crowding around them.

"The Cloud Pods?"

"That's the word."

"I love the view," Harry agreed.

They paused by a street stall with a steaming hot grill, upon which vegetables and meat were sizzling; the aroma wafting enticingly across the road. Harry haggled good-naturedly with the bent old man behind the counter, before handing over several coins. The seller handed Harry two paper bowls, and Harry passed one to Neville.

The food was hot and delicious, and both boys ate with their fingers as they wandered further into the city.

The day passed lazily, neither boy feeling particularly inclined to rush around madly to see everything. Instead they meandered their way slowly through several market places, past the large museum Neville remembered from the previous summer, and through several large parks. The late afternoon found them following a route into the back lanes of Soroti.

"We better turn back," Harry said eventually, after their aimlesss wandering led them far from the busy centre. The sun was still high in the blue sky, but it was beginning to get late.

"Where are we?" Neville asked, squinting around.

They were in a narrow street somewhat removed from the centre of the city, lined by boarded up houses. It had a distinctly ominous look, from the blacked out windows to the eerie silence.

"Vampire territory," Harry said calmly, taking a sip from a bottle of Lubisi they had bought.

"What?!" Neville spluttered, jumping back and looking around wildly.

"Calm down," Harry said, laughing. "Remember last time? Vampires are citizens here. They wouldn't hurt a witch or wizard."

"That Vampire we saw getting flogged," Neville remembered. "The one Hermione, er..."

"Interrupted." Harry said tactfully. "Yeah. And his punishment was just for stealing a wand. Can you imagine the punishment for harming a witch or wizard?"

"I don't want to," Neville admitted. He looked over his shoulder nervously.

The street was just like every other street in the city, except for the lack of light, and the boarded up windows. But Neville's early conditioning had taught him that Vampires were to be avoided at all costs, and never, never trusted. It wasn't easy to accept what Harry was telling him, not when every fibre of his body wanted to flee.

Once they left the Vampire quarter of the city, Neville relaxed again. It was silly really, to be so concerned. The Vampires were everywhere anyway - serving in shops, sweeping the streets, and folding garments at the market. When they returned to catch the Cloud Pod back to the village, Neville noticed that his ticket was stamped by a tall, intimidating Vampire.

"What did you say last year about Vampires?" Neville murmured to Harry once they were safely off the ground. "They have all the menial jobs here?"

"Essentially," Harry confirmed, yawning. It had been a long day of walking.

"They're citizens...but not. Not really equal. They can't do magic, but since they're magical creatures it makes sense for them to live alongside us, rather than seperate."

"Strange," Neville said thoughtfully. "It's so different to Britain. They're not even considered citizens there."

Harry nodded, but said nothing else.

The Cloud Pod carried them high over the mountains, drifting gently towards where the Namiya Village rested between two valleys. Neville let his eyes wander to the lush rainforest spread out beneath him, and forgot about the Vampires.

\\\/

A week later and the villagers finished the Uchawi Pamba harvest. The last day was always frantic, as everyone raced against the sun to get the last few acres of field stripped, and sent down to the village.

"Where does it go now?" Neville asked, as the exhausted men dropped their sacks against the huge pile that had been accumulating all summer.

He had directed the question to Harry, but it was Kingsley who answered. The tall black wizard had returned to his native village for the traditional night of feasting and storytelling that would follow the end of a successful harvest.

"The buyers from the city will come tomorrow morning to agree a price with the Elders. Once everyone is happy then they will each arrange for their cotton to be picked up the following day, and transported by portkey to their workshops. Then it will be made into robes, and other garments."

"Amazing robes," Neville said, remembering how they had saved his life during the battle at Crouch Manor.

"Indeed," Kingsley said, looking like he was remembering the same thing.

In the centre of the village several long tables had been set up, and preparations were being made for tthe traditional enormous bonfire. Children had been gathering wood all day, and the women had been cooking hot soups and stews over open fires, and slow roasting fowl and fish in fire pits in the ground.

"Are you heading up to the portal now?" Harry asked Kingsley, as they walked back to Bibi's hut to change out of their sweat-stained work robes.

"Yes, your friends should be arriving soon," Kingsley nodded. "I believe they all received their portkeys in a timely manner."

"Perfect," Harry said with a smile. "Can't wait to see them."

"Even though the lazy buggers missed the harvest this year," Neville joked slyly.

Harry grinned back at him. "You're the one who agreed to come early!"

Bantering in a friendly fashion, they returned to dress and prepare for the evening.

\\\/

It was an hour later, and the sun had just begun to sink behind the darkening hills. The tables were groaning under the weight of the dishes upon them, and the villagers had just began to pass out plates. There was laughter and cheering, and occasional outbreaks of song. The beer, and stronger fermented brews had already begun to flow freely and the villagers were celebrating a harvest well done.

Harry and Neville waited on the edge of the merriment, keeping their eyes trained on the path to the portal. It was past the time they would have expected Kingsley to arrive with their friends.

"Nothing could go wrong could it?" Neville asked Harry, watching the hills anxiously.

"No, but they should be here by now," Harry admitted.

Suddenly there was a movement on the path, and both boys tensed. Harry grasped for his wand.

"It's them," Harry said a moment later, relief colouring his tone.

The shadows on the path resolved into a group of people. Kingsley stepped out of the bush first, followed by an entourage of teenagers. Ron and Stefan were in front with Kingsley, with their wands out - the rain forest could be dangerous at night - and Hermione took up the rear, keeping the youngest, Ginny and Luna, safely in the middle.

"Harry!" Stefan shouted, the first to catch sight of them.

"Neville!" Hermione called almost at the same time, and by mutual agreement Harry and Neville both ran forwards to greet their friends.

After a month away there were many hugs and greetings exchanged, and exclamations over how people had changed. Ron was much taller, and Stefan had become broader across the shoulders. Harry tried not to think about the changes in the girls, although it made his cheeks redden when they embraced him.

"Come on, welcome," Kingsley said at last. "Tonight we are feasting. You may leave your bags in my Maama's hut, which you will remember from last year. Then you will join us by the fire."

Chattering nine to the dozen, Harry and Neville led the five newcomers through the village. Hermione and Ron had been here before, but it was the first time for Stefan, Ginny and Luna. All three looked as though their eyes were going to pop out of their heads at the plethora of sights and smells in front of them, although the expression was rather normal for Luna.

"Harry," Ginny said in a high-pitched sqeak as they passed several huts, and came alongside the village centre. "Is that a _Cerberus?_ "

"Oh yeah," Harry said casually. "Alastor, Moody and Merlin. Don't ask about the name. She's asleep at the moment because the singing never stops on feast nights."

The enormous three-headed dog was slumped to the ground to one side of the square. All three of her heads were drooling, and snoring thunderously as the music from the tribal drums, and the voices raised in song drifted over her.

"Didn't she have puppies last year?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "That's right. Most of them have been sold now, but there's still one or two wandering around. Cerberus's age very slowly, so they'll be puppies for years."

"Luna where are you going?" Ginny called suddenly.

The blonde girl had wandered away from the group, heading towards the massive dog. She looked back as Ginny called her name, and frowned slightly.

"I'm going to say hello," Luna said calmly, as though it should be obvious why she was approaching the giant carnivore.

"She's asleep," Ron said unnecessarily.

Luna looked very disappointed, but allowed herself to be led on with the rest of the group.

When they had stowed their bags in their rooms for the next few weeks, and dressed for the evening, the seven reunited friends headed back to the village centre.

The evening was filled with feasting and songs. Hermione dragged Ginny and Luna off by the hand to a circle of smiling, dark-skinned girls around their own age. Harry realised she must have become friendly with them the previous summer, and there seemed to be a lot of giggling going on. As usual, Luna looked as though she had wandered in by accident.

"Nice night for it," Neville commented to Harry, gesturing at the enormous expanse of stars spread out above them.

"Beautiful," Stefan agreed.

The four boys were sitting by the edge of the gigantic purple bonfire, sipping on mugs of hot, sweet tea to chase down their meal. Harry felt comfortably bloated, and content to watch the antics around the fire.

Mad-Eye was sitting on a padded stool that had been brought out especially for him. Beside him, Bibi was saying something that Harry couldn't make out as she handed the blind man another plate of food. No doubt it was something acerbic, but her hands were gentle as she folded Mad-Eye's thick fingers around the edges of the plate.

Sirius and Remus were sitting together on a log, speaking in low voices with their heads close together. They were sharing a plate of snacks, and occasionally Remus would tilt his head up to look at the crescent moon, high above them. As Harry watched, Kingsley's neice and nephew, Naeme and Muhindo, ran up to the two men. The twins jabbered something in rapid Swahili, and Harry was impressed to see Sirius respond in the same language, before Remus picked up Muhindo and tossed him into the air as the child shrieked with joy.

The children were everywhere, chasing one another around the fire, teasing their parents and grandparents, and collasping in little heaps when they were tired. Harry found himself with Naeme snuggled up in his arms a short while later, her corkscrew hair tickling his cheek.

"Are you alright _Mdogo_?"Harry asked, wrapping his free arm around her wriggly body.

"Tired," Naeme yawned.

"You should go to bed," Harry suggested, but she shook her head before sliding out of his arms and making her way back to her brother.

"You're very good with children," Stefan observed, tilting his head at Harry.

"Not anymore than anyone else," Harry shrugged awkwardly. Children were everywhere in the village. They were everyone's responsibility.

"I'm exhausted!"

The four boys turned to see Hermione plop onto the ground beside them, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. Ginny and Luna followed, both looking slightly overwhelmed.

"Having a good night?" Harry asked the younger girls.

"Oh yes," Luna said, turning her wide eyes on Harry. "The fire has the most wonderful Lavender Wilders in it."

"That's lovely," Harry said diplomatically, ignoring Ron's cough beside him.

\\\/

The hour was late, and the fire was beginning to flicker lower before the celebrations gave way to storytelling. The children had, for the most part, been tucked up in bed. Now the villagers all began to gather close to the fire in unspoken agreement.

A tall, large black woman stood up. She wore robes, and a swathe of brightly coloured material over one shoulder. Her hair was in tight cornrows, and she cut a powerful and imposing figure. The conversation quickly dwindled, and then came to a natural silence.

Everyone was waiting.

The voluptuous woman spread her plump hands out, and addressed the circle.

"This is a story of bloodshed and bloodlust. Of ideal, and foolishness, and revolutionary zeal. But also of courage, brotherhood, and loyalty."

The crowd of villagers murmured approval. This was the kind of story they wanted to hear.

"Many years ago, our people lived differently to the way we do now. We still had our villages, our ways of life and our cities, but we also had war. I am speaking, of course, of the bloody wars of Bellman the Betrayor."

Harry's eyebrows raised. Although the youngest child knew about it, this was a story he had never heard told out loud on harvest night before. He leaned forward with interest to hear what the big woman had to say.

"From the earliest days of Magic, the Vampires have walked among us - even when we once resided alongside muggles. When our ancestors first split our civilisation away from the muggles and created the Portal, we took the creatures with us to live and thrive in our world of Magic. Their species was being hunted by the non-magicals, and they were at threat of extinction. We allowed them safe haven.

"For many hundreds of years, our people co-existed. The witches and wizards of the newly formed Magical Uganda formed villages and cities. We made great leaps in agriculture and industry, and began trading with other nations. Meanwhile the vampires continued their twilight existence. Our paths crossed occasionally, but for the most part the land was large, and they kept their own counsel. Alas, it could not last.

The large woman looked around impressively. The light was dying fast, and the purple flames made her dark face gleam.

"Eventually there arose a Vampire who was not satisfied with the place of his people in society. His name was Bellman, and he was an English Wizard visiting our nation. He was turned shortly before his seventeenth birthday. At first, like most new Vampires, he was entirely driven by blood lust. But Bellman retained extraordinary capacity for memory, and unlike the majority of his species, he could remember his previous life in perfect clarity. He could remember owning a wand.

"Vampires are forbidden to carry wands. This is the most ancient of our laws, for our own protection. Vampires would, if given the choice, choose to feed on human blood. With the aid of a wand the opportunities for murder become terrible. But Bellman did not agree.

"Bellman left Uganda for many years, and travelled extensively throughout Africa and Europe. Upon his return, he rose swiftly through the ranks of the Vampire goverment until all answered to him. And then he rallied the Vampires, and he gave them a common cause. The desire to posses a wand.

"When our Leaders would not agree to the terms proposed, the Vampires became angry. Bellman led an army down from the mountains, and they fell upon the witches and wizards with whom they had once so peacefully co-existed. Neighbours, friends, colleagues. The slaughter was terrible and bloody. The Vampires killed indiscriminately, intent on their desire to wipe out the wand-carriers. As a people we fought to defend ourselves, and the carnage reigned until our streets ran red with blood.

"Three times Bellman led his army into our streets, and three times our people gave their lives to defend our way of life. The Vampires looted wands where they could, but without the knowledge of Magic they were unable to use them, and destroyed them. The loss was devastating for both our people and our heritage.

"On the final day, Bellman gathered together the remains of his resistance fighters. In the streets of Soroti our people gathered, ready to lay down their lives to protect their children from a future where the Vampires reigned.

The woman dropped her voice to a whisper, and everyone leaned in to not miss a word.

"Our King was called Taamiti the was young, but he was strong and mighty. He went out to speak with Bellman, and allowed nobody to accompany him. When he returned, he announced that the battle would be fought directly between himself and Bellman, so that no more lives would be lost.

"Bellman and Taamiti met in combat in the centre of Soroti, in the district that was once called Karysha. Taamiti was young and strong, and he had Magic. But Bellman had the speed and strength of a Vampire, and the pair were equally matched. All day they fought, and all night, until the earth beneath their feet was red.

"When the first light of dawn showed, Taamiti raised his hand to parley, so that each fighter might take a moment to drink water. But as the King turned away from the fight, Bellman made an unworthy move. The Vampire pulled a stolen wand from his sleeve, and cast a curse at Taamiti. Through this cowardly act, Bellman took control of the fight. Within moments his lips were at the King's throat.

"But in the second before Bellman tore out his throat, Taamiti had time for just one spell. He did not use it to save himself, but cast a blasting curse so powerful that it immolated both fighters instantly. Both were dead, and their bodies were never recovered."

The woman sighed, and a tear glistened in her eye.

"Bellman was gone. The Vampires were paralysed without a leader, and they left the city. Our people were left to bury the countless dead, and mourn the terrible waste of life. In time, the Vampires slowly returned to our society. They took a lesser place, as befitted their betrayal. They live alongside us this day, but we will never forget what happened. We will never forget that Vampires should not be given the power of Magic.

"And we will not forget the courage of King Taamiti, and the people of Soroti."

The woman looked around the circle, taking in every face. Harry felt as though she looked directly at him. And then abruptly she turned and left, leaving only mumurs in her wake.

"Is that all true?" Hermione whispered from Harry's side.

"According to our history books, yes," Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the glowing purple coals.

Gradually conversation began again, and before long other stoytellors came forward to the fire. They told tales of adventure, of love, and stories that caused great laughter. It was early in the morning before any of them made it to bed, and Harry was on the verge of collapse by the time he made it back to the little room he was sharing with Neville.

But as his eyes drifted closed, he was still thinking of the first story.

\\\/

The next morning everyone in the village rose late.

Harry's friends all stumbled into the main room of the hut in varying stages of grogginess, rubbing their eyes and yawning widely. Bibi had a hot, steaming, pan of rich coffee stewing on the stove, which Harry was very grateful for.

"Long night pup?" Sirius asked, collapsing on a cushion beside Harry.

Harry wrapped his hands tightly around the burning mug of coffee, letting the heat sear through him, and breathing in the sharp, bitter, scent.

"You know it was long," he retorted. "You were there."

"And I'm glad," Sirius said cheerfully. "Much more fun than spending time in a cave with only a dragon for company."

Harry twisted around to look at Sirius. "You're not going back there are you?"

"We'll have to see," Sirius said, his eyes shifting slightly. Harry recognised the look as Sirius keeping something from him, and narrowed his eyes. But before he could interrogate his godfather further, more of his friends arrived.

Stefan and Ron appeared in the doorway, both with red-rimmed eyes. Ron looked pale, and faintly green.

"Got any hangover potion?" The red head asked hoarsely.

"Too much beer?" Sirius sniggered.

"No potion," Bibi insisted, pressing mugs of coffee into the hands of the two boys. "This all you need. Drink up! Drink up!"

Harry tried not to laugh at Ron's piteous expression.

\\\/

The following day, all of the villagers gathered to watch the harvested sacks of Uchawi Pamba loaded up and taken away.

Hermione had asked if she could watch, and all of the teenagers had ended up heading down to the collection point alongside the villagers.

Harry tilted his head back. High above them, several of the curious looking Cloud Pods were floating gently towards them. Their mirrored glass walls made then look like bubbles, and several indistinct forms could be made out inside them.

"Are those the people who are buying them?" Hermione asked Harry in a whisper.

"No, those are the underlings coming to collect them," Harry murmured back, as the first pod lightly touched the ground.

Several Vampires emerged from each pod. The curious chalky skin of the undead always looked unusual on the black Ugandans, like a strange pallour had been dusted over the black skin. Each vampire wore robes that identified their master.

"What are they doing?" Stefan asked, as the Vampires walked over to the sacks of cotton without acknowledging the villagers.

"They're attaching portkey's to the sacks," Harry answered.

The Vampires were moving among the sacks of cotton, attaching clips to the Hessian bags. Bit by bit, the harvest began to vanish into thin air. When each Vampire had finished his job, he would return to the Cloud Pod to await the journey home. None of them spoke to the villagers.

"Why don't they portkey with the bags?" Ginny asked, frowning curiously at the Vampires.

Harry noticed that although the Vampires were not supposed to interact with the Villagers, they were not as indifferent as they seemed. He saw more than one of the undead taking a second look and Ron and Ginny, and guessed that they had never seen red hair before.

"Not allowed," Harry said. "Not sure why exactly, but they can only go the slow way."

Hermione had her lips tightly pressed together, and Harry admired her restraint. Ron had confirmed that Hermione had been very upset by the prospect of watching further mistreatment of other humanoid creatures again, but that the girl was determined not to cause a scene like the previous year. Although Harry thought Hermione had a point, he was grateful that she didn't risk their lives by upsetting the overseers or the Villagers.

"Well that's that," Harry said, after the last sack disappeared. The final Vampire was climbing into a Cloud Pod, and after a moment it rose into the air, and began driving after the others towards the distant Soroti.

\\\/

When they returned to Bibi's hut, there was a surprise waiting for them.

"Owls!" Muhindo cried in greeting, running towards the teenagers. "Owls! Lots of them!"

"In the hut," Naeme agreed, running after her brother and determined not to let him be the only bearer of the news.

"It must be the Hogwarts letters," Harry said, grinning slightly mischeviously. "Every year the bird comes right into the hut, and it always drives Bibi mad. This time there must be seven of them."

Inside the little hut it was chaos. The circular room was wide and spacious, but seven large handsome owls were fluttering around, trying to find a perch. Bibi was marching around after them with a thunderous expression on her face, a flyswatter in her hand.

"If these English birds poop on my floor..."

"They won't, Bibi," Harry said, trying not to laugh. "They never do."

"It'll give you something to do," Mad-Eye grunted.

The ex-auror was sitting in the corner on the padded stool that had been especially adapted for him. Although he couldn't see the tumult, he could certainly hear the cacophany - and there was a little smirk hovering around his lips, as though he knew something that the others did not.

Before Bibi could respond, Harry quickly detached a letter from the nearest owl, which happened to be addressed to _Ginny Weasley._

 _"_ You have come a long way, friend," Harry murmured to the owl. Behind him, his friends followed suit and began detaching letters.

Harry scrabbled around in the cupboards until he found some owl treats, and passed them out between the birds. After a few sips of water each Hogwarts owl departed - back to the cooler climates that their feathery bodies were more suited for.

Harry and his friends quickly swapped letters until each had the one addressed to him, and then opened them.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

 _Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

 _A list of books for next year is enclosed._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

"Hey, we can go to Hogsmeade without sneaking out!" Harry said enthusiastically, grinning at his friends. "This is going to be great."

"Look at the book list," Neville said, after a moment. "There's nothing there for Defense - at all."

"This means we have a new Defense Professor again," Hermione said, lifting her head from the parchment. "Remus isn't staying."

"We knew he couldn't," Neville reminded her. "Position is cursed, remember?"

"So what would happen if he tried to go back?" Stefan asked curiously. Having only started at Hogwarts during the second year, this was a new phenomenon to him.

"Don't want to find out," Ron shuddered superstitiously. "All sorts of things have happened to Professors who have tried to carry on. If Remus just quietly resigns, that fulfills the curse - and makes sure nothing happens to him."

"Weasley's right," Mad-Eye grunted from the corner, making them all jump. "But I'm sure you'll find the new Professor _very_ enlightening."

"You know him?" Harry asked with surprise.

"Oh yes," Mad-Eye said, that same smirk returning to his face. "You could say we've met."

\\\/

 _Somewhere in Norway..._

The room was almost empty.

It was stark, severe and quite barren; as though a monk might use it as a place for scholarly pursuit. There was nothing but a wooden desk with a few papers on it, a rickety wooden chair before the desk, and a bookcase full of novels with questionable titles.

Indeed its very starkness seemed oddly unsuitable for the man behind the desk, who was dressed in opulent furs, and looked as though he was partial to frequent Wizards pamper sessions. He looked to be somewhere in the realm of his mid forties, with a thick, well-oiled, black, goetee; and dark bushy eyebrows. There was a mean glint to his eyes when he spoke:

"I agreed to accept one girl. Not two."

"Does it really make a difference?"

The question was asked by the girl, sitting uncomfortably on the rickety chair in front of his desk.

In contrast to him, she was young and beautiful; dressed in long velvet robes and a thick ermine fur wrap. Her expression was calm as she watched the man leaf through several sheets of parchment in front of him, but beneath the table her hands were twisting in her lap.

"It makes a difference if the British law enforcement come knocking," the man scowled.

The girl made no response. Instead she looked across the office to the window, where beyond one could see snow-capped mountains, and swirling grey clouds. It was not inviting, and the room itself was chilly. There was no fireplace to lend a sense of coziness, and the girl was cold in spite of her wrap.

The man reached the last page of the paperwork.

"You have permission?" He asked, his eyebrows raising as he looked up. "You actually have your mother's signed permission for this?"

"I said, didn't I?" The girl asked, fingering her wand. She was hoping things weren't going to descend to that.

"Very well," the man sighed. He steepled his hands together, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I'll take you both. But I don't want any nonsense. I do read the newspapers you know. I heard all about your little escapade, _and_ I know that you run around with the Potter brat. You cannot expect a particularly warm welcome from the other students."

" _Ran_ around," the Daphne Greengrass corrected coolly. "Past tense. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"I suppose you are," the man sighed. "I suppose you are."

With a reluctance flourish, the man signed his name at the bottom of one of the sheets of parchment. He passed it back to the girl, who signed her own name calmly beneath it. She didn't flinch, even as the ink shone scarlet and wet.

"We have a deal then, headmaster?" Daphne asked, standing up to leave.

"We have a deal," Igor Karkaroff said reluctantly.

He watched as she left his office in a swirl of robes and perfume, and frowned. Letting that girl and her sister into his school would bring nothing but trouble when the Dark Lord returned, he was certain of it - and nobody at Durmstrang had believed the slick story in the British press about the incident the previous month. But then perhaps the girl's connection with Potter could afford him some measure of protection when that time came, if he played his cards right.

Igor Karkaroff knew he was going to need all the protection he could get. And if that meant pandering to the Greengrass sisters, he supposed it could be worse.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**

 **(Luca, go away and read some real fiction)**


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